


Red Sky at Night

by NamiSazanami



Series: Swallowed by the Sea [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 16:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19468072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamiSazanami/pseuds/NamiSazanami
Summary: Haerelion, Gandalf, and Legolas have been searching all over the Undying Lands trying to find out the secrets to Haerelion’s past. How can he do magic? How did he come to be in Greenwood? And who were his parents? Just when all hope seems lost, Gandalf makes a suggestion to lands never ventured to before. Can the trio sail past the borders of the Undying Lands, through the Void, and find the last piece of Almaren where Eru is believed to still live? And more importantly, will it give Haerelion the answers he so desperately seeks?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note 1: For those not familiar with the phrase referred to in the title, I’ll deign to elucidate a bit here. Red sky at night, sailors delight. Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning. Basically, good weather if there’s a red sky at night, but storm’s a coming if you see a red sky in the morning. For further clarification and scientific jargon, see my notes at the end of the story. 
> 
> Note 2: The name Hurlee is pronounced /her’-ley/ and it means ‘sea-tide’.

...  
Red Sky at Night  
~...~

Lil Peverell, neé MacEvins stepped out of the back door of her cottage, clutching a small bundle of blankets closely to her chest. Softly shutting the heavy wooden door behind her, she quickly blocked out all light from the candles within. Only the brilliance of the waning moon above, currently covered by a thin layer of clouds, provided any source of illumination for the woman as she pressed her bundle tighter into her bosom and stole into the night.

The nocturnal crickets, cicadas, and owls greeted her with their familiar serenade, not pausing for a moment as she passed their resting places through the tall grass and climbed up the lush green hills, strewn with patches of purple heather and thistle. It was less than an hour’s walk from her home if she set a fast pace, and she needed to be fast lest her husband James find her and the baby missing too soon and come out after them. He had just closed his eyes for the night after a hearty dinner and a filling draught of cider when Lil knew her chance had come.

Wrapping the baby Hurlee in his wool blanket, Lil crept over the hills and towards the edge of the wildwood ahead. She had an old iron horseshoe and nail wrapped in a light cloth next to her trusty 10 and a quarter inch willow wand stowed in the pocket of her dress, though she prayed she would not find cause to use it as she knew faeries hated when magic was used against them. Nonetheless, it still paid to be cautious and prepared, just in case James was right and her fears were nothing more than silly superstitions.

But despite her husband brushing aside her fears, Lil had known from the moment her son was born, when she had wrapped her arms around him for the very first time, feeling the inexplicable joy that only a mother could ever know, that her child was not of this world.

She would admit that they were a bit of an unorthodox family to begin with; revolutionary really. Her husband was a sailor from Britain, born of a family that had a long heritage at sea. The fact that he was from Britain was enough to ostracize Lil from the rest of her family and village, yet she loved him with all her heart, and she hoped that as a couple they would somehow be able to overcome this loss as well. But even after four years of secret courtship and three of being married, Lil was hesitant to admit that James still did not understand the ways of her people. Nor did he comprehend what set their child apart as different.

But Lil had seen it from the first loving gaze she’d bestowed upon her bairn. She knew that her Hurley belonged to the Aos Sí, the People of the Mounds. His eyes were her emerald green, but deeper and brighter somehow; radiant. His skin glowed with an inner light even when the sky was black and no starlight could be seen above. His hair was a silky black that seemed to grow faster than normal for a child, not at all like James’ messy mane. And the tips of his ears had a distinctive point to them that put all her doubts to rest. Her child, an unexplainable miracle, whom she had carried for ten months, did not belong to this world. And though she wept to give him up, she understood that her task had only been to bear him and give him life; a blessing from the Aos Sí themselves, no doubt. Now it was her duty to hand him over to the Sí, for he would find no lasting warmth against her breast, and he would never find peace in his heart in Éire.

This realm was not to be his.

Midway through their journey, Hurlee began to stir in her hold and fuss softly, as if he knew he was being taken away for the last time, never to return home to his parents. Lil’s hear broke as she cooed at her child, rocking him in her hold, and softly began singing him a lullaby.

_“Over in the valley, many years ago,_   
_My mother sang a song to me in tones so sweet and low._   
_Just a simple little ditty in her good ole Irish way,_   
_And I’d give the world if she could sing that song for me today_

_Too-_ ra _-loo-_ ra _-loo-_ ral _, Too-_ ra _-loo-_ ra _-li,_  
 _Too-_ ra _-loo-_ ra _-loo-_ ral _, Hush now don’t you cry!_  
 _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,_  
 _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, That’s an Irish lullaby._

_Oft in dreams I wander, to that cot again._   
_I feel her arms a-hugging me as when she held me then._   
_And I hear her voice a-humming to me as in days of yore,_   
_When she used to rock me fast asleep outside our cottage door._   
_Singing,_

_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,_   
_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Hush now don’t you cry!_   
_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,_   
_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, That’s an Irish lullaby._

_Oh, I can hear that music; I can hear that song,_  
 _Filling me with memories of a mother’s love so strong._  
 _Its melody still haunts me these many years gone by_  
 _Too-_ ra _-loo-_ ra _-loo-_ ral  
 _Until the day I die._

_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,_   
_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Hush now don’t you cry!_   
_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,_   
_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, That’s an Irish lullaby.”_

Lil pressed another kiss to Hurlee’s head, once more breathing in his scent as she fought to keep the tears at bay. She hoped he would one day remember that song, and how she would always sing it to him, and know that she had loved him very much. She hoped he would not forget her, even if all he remembered was her voice, or the warmth of her arms. She wanted her baby to know that he always had his mother’s love.

...

It was nigh midnight when Lil overtook the final hill and she caught sight of the luminescent faery ring in the distant.

Just as she was coming down the final slope, the clouds overhead dispersed into thin wisps and the full brilliance of the moon shone down on the small clearing ahead. Surrounding an old hawthorn tree that held a dark archway in the bark at its base from where the faeries came through, was a ring of wild mushrooms and daisies.

Stealing herself for what she was about to do, Lil closed her eyes and pressed a lingering kiss to the top of Hurlee’s head, while taking a deep breath through her nose and breathing in the scent of her child. He was her child, no matter what Fate had in store for him. Perhaps he belonged to the Tuatha Dé Danann, perhaps he was one of the Fair Folk, or perhaps he was destined for a life beyond her imaginings. She had to trust in the gods that her son would be in good hands.

Above all else, she was sure that they would at least take him to the Otherworld, to someplace he belonged. Someplace she couldn’t follow. But she had to have faith. Nothing else could ease her mind once her son’s fate was out of her hands, when he would soon be far from her reach.

Closing the remaining distance, she stopped briefly with her toe next to the biggest mushroom, which was a deep red under the white moonlight, and then began to circle the ring. Once, twice, three times... Upon crossing the toadstool the ninth time, she stopped in her tracks and involuntarily stumbled back a step as her eyes alighted upon the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.

Fiercely handsome creatures of stately, ethereal beauty, dressed in robes of flowing white danced gaily around inside the ring. Lil sucked in a quick breath as her gaze absorbed the stunning beings. Childhood stories and beliefs had not nearly prepared her for the fascination that poured from her at such a sight. In the logical part of her mind, she remembered that they could be just as terrible and hideous as they were beautiful if their homes were threatened or they themselves were wrongly exposed, but she easily brushed those dangers aside a moment later in favour of watching, unhindered, the entrancing spectacle in front of her. Never had she seen such strikingly gorgeous men and women; so unearthly, so cheerful, completely untouched by the cares of the world.

Strains of melodious music reached her ears seconds later, accompanied by the light footfalls of the dancers that fell in time with the cheerful rhythm. The melody came from some type of instrument that she could neither see nor identify by sound, for it was beyond anything she had ever heard produced by human hands. And it was teasingly alluring. How desperately she wanted to enter and dance the night away among the Fair Folk til morning light shone.

But just as she lifted her foot to move forward, Hurlee shifted in her hold and she felt her mind jolt back to the present and the task at hand. As she gathered her wits about her once more, she reminded herself of the warnings of her people, cautioning her from the time she was a young child of entering into such frivolity of the Sí Folk. Even her time at Hogwarts and learning more about the magical world had not disabused her of the cold warning that still chilled her heart.

_He that enters a faery ring_   
_Bring naught but strain and strife;_   
_Enter here and dance til weary_   
_First blush, just dust remains_

But the Sí were also a race that prized their children above all else, and Lil was sure they would recognise Hurlee as their own. They would take care of him and raise him in a world in which he would feel at home, where he would be happy.

Taking a deep breath of the night air and securing Hurlee more tightly to her chest, Lil reached into her pocket and unwrapped the horseshoe, bringing it up to her lips and kissing it for luck before throwing it right atop the toadstool she had used as her counting mark to break the dance and garner the attention of the Aos Sí.

The music came to an abrupt halt and the dancing stopped, all bodies turning and eyes shifting to regard the small mortal that dared disturb their merriment.

“Pardon me, Fair Ones,” she said in a clear and reverent voice. “May love and laughter light your days, and warm your heart and home. May peace and plenty bless your world with joy that long endures. May all life’s passing seasons bring the best to you and yours.”

The Aos Sí considered her carefully, their gaze scanning up and down and taking in every inch of her as though measuring her in some way. Finally, after several moments of silence had passed, in which Lil stood as perfectly still as possible, while doing her best not to freeze up so that she would be able to reach for her wand quickly enough should the need arise, the tall male Sí closest to her stepped back and swept his arms to the side, inviting her into the circle.

She knew that she was walking a fine line here between risking offence by refusing them and showing proper respect so they would deign to take her child, care for him, and love him as he should be loved and cared for. Lil took a tentative step forward and carefully lowered Hurlee down for the Fair Folk to see the face of her child. A face that, until this moment, she had not realised how truly similar it was to theirs.

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked at their expectant expressions, which were quickly turning curious and hungry as they eyed the child in her arms. Doubts started forming in her mind, wondering if she was in fact doing what was best for Hurlee. Perhaps she and James could raise him properly on their own, and he could find happiness here regardless. She would be a good mother, she knew she loved her son above all else.

Then, one of the women stepped forward, pushing the male aside, and smiled gently at Lil, beckoning her to continue. Her face showed much more warmth and understanding. And with that one look, her fears and doubts vanished and her conviction was resolved. She was doing the right thing. This was the right course for her child, her Hurlee.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Lil began the second part of her entreaty.

“Bless this child and bless this night, of new beginnings.  
Smile upon this babe with love, protection, and guidance.  
Teach this little one to follow in your footsteps, and to live life in the ways of your People.

“I leave his fate to you,” she intoned solemnly, clutching at her son, her entire body trembling violently, as she slowly offered him forward to the female Sí that had shown her a face of kindness and understanding. “Please,” she choked, unable to say anymore.

The lady Sí gestured behind her and a second later, a shorter, diminutive woman with a small, pointed face, eyes like glittering jewels, and delicate wings on her back moved forward and offered the lady a small, roughhewn wooden bowl filled with some kind of silvery liquid. The lady took the bowl and offered it to Lil, nodding to her to give it to Hurlee.

Lil hesitated for a breath before slowly reaching forward, grasping the tip of the bowl in her quivering hands, and offering it to Hurlee’s lips. The child drank it eagerly, sipping at the contents greedily as though it was his mother’s milk until the entire bowl had been drained dry. Lil watched her son’s face anxiously for any changes, but Hurlee just looked up at her with blinking, bright green eyes that shone even brighter in the moonlight. He opened his mouth as if asking for more and closed his tiny fists around the fingers that held him, while her other hand lovingly stroked the top of his head. With tears in her voice and a sad smile on her face, she began to sing to him one last time.

 _“Lay down your head and I'll sing you a lullaby_  
 _Back to the years of loo-li lai-lay_  
 _And I'll sing you to sleep and I'll_ sing _you tomorrow_  
 _Bless_ you _with love for the road that you go_.

_May you sail fair to the far fields of fortune_   
_With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet_   
_And may you need never to banish misfortune_   
_May you find kindness in all that you meet._

_May there always be angels to watch over you_   
_To guide you each step of the way_   
_To guard you and keep you safe from all harm_   
_Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay_

_May you bring love and may you bring happiness_   
_Be loved in return to the end of your days_   
_Now fall off to sleep, I'm not meaning to keep you_   
_I'll just sit for a while and sing loo-li, lai-lay_

_Loo-li, loo-li,_   
_Loo-li, loo-li_   
_Loo-li, loo-li...._

“Be safe, my love,” she whispered to him, a lump obstructing her throat as she tried to impart her last blessing on her beloved son. “You will always be the child of my body and heart, no matter where you reside. My only wish is for you to you grow up strong and healthy, and for you to be happy above all else.” With a final kiss to the top of his soft, silky head, Lil Peverell closed her eyes and passed her child into the waiting hands of the Aos Sí.

By the time she opened her eyes once more, they were gone. The music had been silenced, the eldritch lights extinguished, and the air had gone distinctly cold. Only the darkness of night, with the moon having been covered once more by the clouds, and the hooting of a distant owl remained. She wistfully entertained the notion of hearing the distant sound of a tolling bell far off, like it was ringing somewhere in the back of her memory. And as the deep ringing faded, the realisation of all she had sacrificed in that moment sunk in her heart sharply.

Her child now forever lost to her, Lil Peverell started her long journey back home.

...  
.  
...

Haerelion stood atop a sea cliff on the westward most point of the Pelóri Mountains and surveyed the crashing waves below. His thoughts were buzzing frantically in his head as though he were housing an entire beehive between his ears. Despite his patience, his increased control on his magic Legolas’ support, and Gandalf’s guidance, Haerelion was getting more and more frustrated as the months passed.

It had been almost five years since he and Legolas had landed upon the shores of the Valinor to start a new life in the Undying Lands. Five years since he’d been practising under Gandalf’s tutelage and becoming a seriously powerful Istar in his own right. Five years since he’d started visiting the Lords of the Valinor, across all the lands, looking for the answers to his parentage and his past. And five years had so far come to naught. He was no more the wiser of his family origins or how he had come to be brought to King Thranduil’s Halls than he had been when he’d first arrived. Five years ago.

And it was frustrating. No, it was disappointing.

Legolas knew how he felt. Though he was generally able to hide it well from others, there was no longer anything he was capable of hiding from Legolas. He had feared when he’d first started apprenticing under Gandalf that he and Legolas were drifting apart. They were separated for such long stretches of time, and Haerelion had been torn. Follow his magic and the desire in his heart to find the clues to his past, or stay with Legolas all day and try to ignore the longings that clawed at him from within.

He had been selfish, or so he’d thought, and followed Gandalf and started the quest to find the identity of his parents, leaving Legolas in the lurch, all the while knowing how much he was hurting his husband. It had begun to slowly kill them both; Haerelion not able to concentrate and perform as well as he should have when his heart was not fully in the magic, and his Legolas retreating deeper and deeper into himself from the loneliness of Haerelion’s absence. Haerelion had never been so grateful as when Legolas saw the answer to their problems and proved his loyalty and dedication to Haerelion in the process. It had been so simple, but it had meant the world to Haerelion.

Legolas had joined Haerelion in his quest, staying by his side, patiently watching, and silently encouraging Haerelion as he attempted new feats of magic under Gandalf’s instruction. And his support had never faltered since. It had ultimately brought them closer, more than Haerelion had previously conceived possible, and despite the big question that was his past, constantly looming in his mind, Haerelion couldn’t be happier. But that did not stop him from being frustrated at his lack of information after so long a time.

The couple had been away from their talan in the Woods of Oromë for six months now, not that any of them were complaining. In that time, the trio had trekked all across the Valinor, learning new bits of magic, new history of the Undying Lands, and meeting with all the Valar and Valier.

Haerelion blew out an explosive sigh that was lost in the shrieking gale and hung his head despairingly.

“Do not be so despondent, melanin,” Legolas’ voice spoke in his ear moments later, accompanied by his warm arms coming to wrap around Haerelion’s waist and pull the younger elf’s body into his own. “We will find the answers you seek soon. I can feel it in my blood.” (My love)

Turning his head, his hopelessness being replaced by shock and curiosity, he looked up at Legolas in surprise. “You never mentioned that before. Or are you just trying to humour me so I will quit frowning?” he asked with a rueful grin that did not quite reach his eyes.

“No,” Legolas answered solemnly, “It is what I truly feel. And that belief is getting stronger and stronger in my heart as the days pass. We will uncover your past soon. I just know it.”

“But we’ve gone everywhere we could possibly go!” Haerelion cried, throwing his hands up in the air and stepping away from Legolas to stand closer to the edge. “We have met with all the Exalted Ones, including Lord Irmo, Oromë, Aulë, Tulkas, Ulmo, Lórien, and even Manwë! We have spoken at length with Queens Varda, Yavanna, Nienna, Estë, Vairë, Vána, and Nessa. The only one we have not seen is Mandos, and that’s because we are not dead, and thus not allowed into his borders!” he exclaimed in exhausted exasperation. “I don't understand how you can hold onto any form of hope when all possible avenues have been closed to us. There is nowhere left to go, and you ask why I despair?” Haerelion refused to face Legolas and stared dejectedly out onto the ocean scape ahead of him, attempting to let the crash of the waves and the screeching of the wind drown out the keening lament of his soul that would not be appeased.

“Or perhaps we haven’t been looking far enough.”

Both elves turned in surprise as the elderly wizard Gandalf climbed up to where they stood, a mysterious smile decorating his face as he looked challengingly at Haerelion, who glared stubbornly back.

“I will not allow you to falsely raise up my hopes another time Gandalf, only to be disappointed. We might as well turn back now. There is nothing left to be found here.” They were at the end of the Lands of the Valar, facing the Ekkaia, the Encircling Seas, having reached the tip of Helcaraxe in the north and gone down past the Pastures of the Yavanna in the south. Haerelion did not see how they could possibly travel any farther. And he didn’t appreciate the joke Gandalf was trying to make of him.

But Gandalf just continued to smile and beckoned Legolas and Haerelion to follow him back down the cliff side. “Come back to camp and sit for a spell. We have much to discuss.”

An hour later, the trio were seated closely around a roaring fire, built for Gandalf’s benefit in this biting cold, and as dusk began to fall over the lands, Gandalf stared down at his lap, seemingly gathering his thoughts.

“What do you know of the lands of Arda beyond that of Middle Earth and the Valinor?” Gandalf began, looking closely at Haerelion, and then Legolas for several seconds, getting negative responses from the pair. He nodded. “As I thought.

“What do you think lies past the Ekkai? Is Arda round, where if you go far enough you will reach the far side of Middle Earth, or is it flat?”

“It’s round,” Haerelion said with a tentative nod, the same time as Legolas declared it to be flat. The two elves exchanged surprised looks, followed by playful glares, even as they frowned thoughtfully at the question.

Gandalf ignored both their answers and continued without pause. “And if so, what would you reach if you ventured out farther to the West?”

Legolas opened his mouth as if to speak, but shut it a moment later, a pensive look of confusion on his face. At his side, Haerelion pursed his lips tightly together and looked down at his intertwined fingers in contemplation, choosing not to speak for the moment until he had something of real substance to share and a more definitive idea to better coalesce his thoughts.

Finally, after the minutes of silence had stretched long enough, with only the loud crackles and pops of the fire breaking the silence of the night, whereupon neither elf seemed ready to provide a conclusive reply, Gandalf garnered their attention once again by gruffly clearing his throat.

“You are both right, in a sense. Past the Ekkai, there is Kúma, the Void. And to those who can venture that far, there is no end to the world.” He stopped to let that statement resonate in the cold air around them.

Haerelion instinctively moved even closer to Legolas in response, curling his leg around Legolas’ and overlapping their thighs as he moulded himself into the older elf’s side. The Void. He wasn’t sure why, but he thought it sounded particularly menacing... daunting. He felt his heart settle down a bit as Legolas instantly wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled them even closer together.

“The Void,” Haerelion finally questioned softly, urging Gandalf to continue.

The old Istar nodded. “Yes. And beyond that,” he paused again, always one to draw out the suspense until his listeners were at the very edge of their seats, “Beyond that is rumoured to be pieces of Almaren that had floated away over time, still left from when Melkor destroyed it in the First Age. And,” Gandalf paused dramatically, a twinkle in his dark grey eyes as he surveyed them conspiratorially, “it is believed by some to be the place where Eru still reigns.”

Blinking frantically, his heart caught in his throat, Haerelion reached up and grabbed onto Legolas’ hand, squeezing it tightly until he was sure he must have caught off all blood flow, and then some. Legolas squeezed him even tighter to his side, but said nothing. Neither had taken their eyes off Gandalf yet.

“Almaren,” the youngest elf whispered quietly. “Truly? How could that be? Why have we not...?”

“The journey has never been made hitherto,” Gandalf said, answering Haerelion’s unfinished question. “The Valar and Valier’s place is in the Undying Lands now, watching over their Children in Valinor and Middle Earth. The Elves, the First Born of Ilúvatar, awoken by the waters of Cuiviénen, have always been at home on either Middle Earth or the Valinor, have known no other home, and have never had the need to travel beyond. There has never been a need. As for those old enough to miss their old home, to long for the way things used to be, they also know that too much has been destroyed to ever go back.”

“So why do you bring this up then if there is truly nothing there?” Legolas asked, his clear voice providing a calming balm to Haerelion’s rapidly beating heart. “What can we hope to find there if it is no longer inhabitable?”

“I did not say that,” Gandalf re-joined, a slight chuckle in his voice. “But even if there is no one there any longer, it is still a mystery. And as we have exhausted all avenues within the Valinor, as Haerelion has already pointed out, why not explore and see if there is anything of worth to find? What more do we have to lose?”

Haerelion fisted the hand not holding onto Legolas’ and pressed his fingers to his lips. His eyes, downcast, slid out of focus as they stared unseeingly onto the base of the fire, blurring the blues and deep oranges of the flickering flame that licked playfully at the large grey stones keeping it contained within the pit. He wondered whether Gandalf wasn’t just spurring them on some wild goose chase, or if his idea could possibly hold any merit. His old mentor was right, though; what else did they have to lose? This was their last option. It was follow this lead, a fool’s chase no doubt, or go home and live with the fact that he would never know from where he had come.

As he thought about it, he realised that there really was no further discussion needed; he had made up his mind the moment Gandalf insinuated there was more beyond the edge of the Valinor.

Raising his head, he met both his husband and Gandalf’s expectant gazes and said, “Alright. Let us see what lies beyond the Void.”

...  
.  
...

They didn’t have time to retrieve their red cedar schooner from the other side of the Valinor, but luckily Haerelion was much more skilled in his magic after so many years under Gandalf’s tutelage, and he and Legolas knew more than most about the sea after their initial crossing of the Belegaer alone. So among the three of them, with the help of magic, they were able to construct a sturdy sea vessel in less than a month’s time. And before they knew it, they were ready to set sail.

A small gaff cutter with a fin keel, narrow but deep, made of larch from the surrounding forest was just big enough for the three of them. It wasn't nearly as comfortable, nor of the same quality as Legolas and Haerelion’s schooner, which was made with painstaking care and dedication over the years leading up to their departure, but it was still superiorly made. More importantly, after soaking for several days, with the added help of magic, to allow the wood to take in water, swell up, and close in the final cracks, their ship was ready for the rough waters ahead.

Just like over five years ago, when Haerelion and Legolas had pushed off from the shores of Middle Earth, leaving behind their friends and family forevermore, the three now set off from the shores of the Valinor to destinations unknown. No fanfare accompanied their departure this time, and none of them looked back as they set sail. Though secretly, Haerelion wondered how dangerous this journey truly would be; what Gandalf might not have told them, and if they ever would return to see the shores of the Valinor again. Elves were immortal, yes, but not completely invulnerable. And the three of them were the first to venture beyond into the void ever since Almaren had been lost to the Undying Lands and the Valar. Surely they were being foolhardy to dare take such a risk into the unknown. And Haerelion was truly being irreconcilably selfish for allowing his mate and teacher to follow him on this reckless mission.

Divining his thoughts as easily as ever, Legolas came up to stand closer to Haerelion as the younger elf and Gandalf continued to feed wind to the sails and swiftly put more and more distance between their ship and the coastline.

Leaning down to whisper in his ear, as though not to break his concentration from the task, Legolas said softly, “You worry yourself over things that will likely never come to pass.”

Haerelion did not look away from the sails as he answered just as quietly, “You do not know that for sure. Our path is being forged as we sail, and we cannot possibly know what lays ahead, or if this mission will even bear fruit, let alone if we will have the ability to come back should we ever come to find this lost island Gandalf insists is still out there.”

“Are you doubting my word?” Gandalf’s voice boomed loudly in comparison to their soft whispers, yet it was not as jarring as it could have been for his tone was tempered by a light-hearted amusement in reaction to Haerelion’s reservations.

“Just your certainty in all this,” Haerelion answered, turning to his master in all seriousness. “But I appreciate the commitment in helping me find the answers I seek to my past.”

“You are most welcome,” Gandalf nodded in return with an indulging smile. “It was about time something more exciting happened around here anyway. To be perfectly honest,” he blustered through his beard, “I was beginning to get a little tired of all you elves with your gossip and laziness.” Haerelion glared lightly, pretending to look offended by Gandalf’s overgeneralised remark. “You’ve given me a reason to have an adventure,” the old Istar declared, “and for that I thank you. Now all we have to make sure is that we make it back alive.”

Haerelion’s shoulders slumped as he deadpanned, “Thank you so much. That was exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Gandalf’s deep answering chuckles leapt away onto the winds and disappeared with the crash of the waves on the hull.

......

It had been almost a month since their voyage began and things were not going nearly as well as they had hoped. At the moment, the sea was calm, almost deceptively so. It went rather well with the eerie feeling in the air that had been spreading steadily over the three travellers these past few days, giving them the odd impression that time had been put on pause. Or perhaps they had passed some type of boundary where time no longer had any reign or meaning.

The wind had died long ago, both natural and magical, leaving their ship floating quietly atop the unmoving waters under a deep grey sky that allowed little light to break through. No magical light penetrated more than a foot in any direction, and no matter how many times Haerelion and Gandalf tried to call the winds and waves to their aid, nothing came. In fact, with the water reflecting the skies above, it was like the entire world had gone dark and three sailors were left venturing out into nothingness. No birds graced the skies above and no animals stirred the waters below; at least none that they were aware of.

The last seven days had been ones of endless dusk. Seven days of jumping at every slight creak and thump they made. Seven days of overwhelming silence with no one willing to voice the worries of despair eating slowly away at them. Haerelion did not want to admit defeat so soon, but there was no denying the fact that he felt stuck, like the waters, winds, and helm had been taken out of his control and he had no way of regaining that power.

In fact, between the lack of any kind of movement and the unnerving silence, Haerelion half expected a hole to appear beneath their ship at any moment and suck them in. It was, after all, called The Void for good reason. And if it weren’t for the firm feeling of wood beneath their feet, canvas sails passing under their hands, and strong braided ropes in their grips, chaffing away at their skin, they would have been forced to assume the worst; that the world had fallen away one night while they slept, leaving them hanging in this odd, dark limbo forever.

“Do you think we shall ever come to see the end of this?” Legolas asked softly at Haerelion’s side, the two having stayed close together, even on a ship so small, ever since the sun had abandoned them. Through an unspoken agreement, none of them had spoken above a whisper in those seven days, scared to breech the mysterious silence or whatever presence lay beyond the boundaries of their vessel that was keeping this part of the world in darkness.

Haerelion silently shrugged in response, knowing that even if Legolas could not see it, they were close enough that the other elf could feel the movements of his body and understand. Honestly, there was nothing he could say at this point that would be of any help.

“You and Gandalf say you have tried every possible spell you can think of to combat this perplexing stillness and make more headway in the stagnant waters below,” Legolas pressed, though they had had this conversation between the three of them multiple times over the past several days, all with varying degrees of failure and mounting frustration. “You are sure there is no other aid magic can lend us in this hour?”

Haerelion wanted to shake his head and find a way to put Legolas’ nagging to rest once and for all. He wanted to say that yes, he was absolutely sure nothing else could be done. That if Gandalf, who had centuries more experience on him, could find no answers, then what good did Legolas think Haerelion could do?

But he held his tongue.

Something in his gut, an odd instinctual notion that he couldn’t quite shake, said otherwise. That there was a solution waiting just beyond his grasp; a solution he needed to find, especially due to the fact that it was his need to find information about his past that was putting all three of them in danger. But regardless, something told him that there was more he could do, more he was expected to do; something which Gandalf could not.

The only problem was, he had not the first clue of what that could possibly be. And time was running out.

Though all three of them were immortal, they were quickly running out of food and supplies, not to mention the unnatural stifling quality of the air around them that seemed to be suffocating them as they lay in wait. And like Haerelion had mentioned before, who knew what would happen if they were to die on the edge of the world itself? Did the Valar still hold sway so far beyond the borders of Aman? Or would their souls just be lost into the Void with no one any the wiser? In addition to all that was an added tension in the group that had not previously existed; a restlessness and unease that had everyone on edge.

It was only this knowledge and forced patience coupled with Haerelion’s own frustration at himself for not figuring out the answer that was seemingly on the tip of his tongue that prevented him from telling Legolas off for asking so ridiculous a question that he well knew the answer to.

So instead, he reached down and threaded his fingers with Legolas’, choosing to ignore the initial stiff resistance he felt before Legolas allowed himself to be moulded to Haerelion’s whim. After all, addressing the edginess everyone was feeling only served to increase his guilt and add to the queasy feeling in his stomach.

Squeezing Legolas’ hand tightly and feeling an answering squeeze in return, Haerelion tried to draw comfort and inspiration from his love. He knew the answer he sought would not be borne from any of Gandalf’s teachings; something told him it was innate to his own magic. Whatever made him different from the Istari of this world was what he had to rely on now. What that was, though, he didn’t yet know.

Sensing his heightened distress, Legolas put his own frustration aside for the moment and pulled Haerelion closer into himself, resting his head against Haerelion’s, where he laid a small kiss on his crown. A small surge of warmth flamed in Haerelion’s core, comforting him just as Legolas had designed. It was just what he needed in that moment to help him think straight.

And then a piece clicked into place.

‘Just what he needed.’ That was it! As simple as that. And suddenly he knew just what power he held. He just had to ask for it.

First, and foremost, they needed light. The normal spells both he and Gandalf had tried so far had not worked beyond providing a dim glow and a small bit of reprieve to allow them to see their meals each day. But perhaps he, Haerelion, had been going about it in the wrong way. Maybe it wasn't some complicated Maiar spell they needed at all, but a simple request.

He didn’t know for sure if it would work, but closing his eyes, he called forth his magic from his core with only one thought in mind. Waiting a moment to assure that he had enough power behind the word, he tightened his grip on Legolas’ hand, opened his eyes, and cried out, “Light!”

For a few seconds nothing happened as Haerelion waited in tense silence, while the other two looked at him in confusion, no doubt wondering what he had meant to accomplish with that outburst.

And then, the world around them burst back into colour.

The light blue of a midday sky accompanied by a burning sun spread rapidly above them. Below and around them, the waves began to lighten and sparkle in endless movement, brightening to an exotic cerulean colour under their awestruck gazes. The pale grey of the sails and the deep brown of the ship shone once more and reflected brightly under the sun, flooding their widened pupils with the unexpected light after such total darkness, causing all three males to quickly close their watering eyes in pain.

Clutching the side of the gunnel, Haerelion squeezed his eyelids shut while panting at the price his effective bit of magic had taken. It was not too large a price, at least nothing he was not used to from the strenuously draining exercises he performed under Gandalf’s tutelage, but he was still reeling from the shock of his success, nonetheless.

It was then that he noticed it was still unnervingly silent. But he didn’t have much time to ponder that, for no sooner was he able to stand upright and open his eyes of his own volition, Gandalf was already storming his way over to him, breaking the silence as he demanded what Haerelion had done.

“I- I’m not sure,” Haerelion faltered, shaking his head as the world seemed to spin around him in all its newly re-coloured glory with every chromatic shade and gradation known to the elven eye barraging his senses. “I guess I just relied on the intrinsic parts of my magic.” He hesitated to tell Gandalf that he had deliberately gone against every rule the old Istar had ever taught him on spell work, and had gone with what he felt was right. He had brought forth his magic and called for light, as simple as that, doing the exact thing Gandalf had cautioned him against as being dangerous for an Istar’s magic to call blindly on the elements like that without setting any kind of boundaries in place for personal safety and mental stability.

But even though Haerelion tried to keep those thoughts to himself, Gandalf was not known as the wisest of his order for nothing. He stared down at Haerelion as though he knew exactly what secrets Haerelion was trying to hide, his gaze seeming to bore into the young elf’s skull and root out the answers with force without ever saying a word.

“I just called upon my magic,” Haerelion admitted finally, feeling powerless to prevent the words from spilling forth.

“And?” Gandalf pressed, his hands gripping his staff tightly with building suspension.

Haerelion curled his lower lip under his teeth and tried to stop himself from telling Gandalf exactly what he didn’t want to hear. But even with Legolas’ help, pressing against him from behind in silent support, it was a losing game.

“I just asked and the world lit up again,” he finally pushed out in false cheer, while silently wondering why he was still afraid of Gandalf’s rules when his method had clearly worked. Especially considering that nothing else Gandalf had tried had done anything, and time had clearly been running out, coupled with tempers running high and patience running thin.

“Haerelion Elingollor, of all the stupid, foolish –”

“But it worked,” Legolas cut in, interrupting Gandalf before he could begin his full rant. He stopped the old Istar in his tracks as Gandalf looked up in surprise that anyone had dared speak against his wisdom. “It was dark for so long that we thought we would never see the end – even your magic was no match for it – and Haerelion was able to return the light to us in his own way,” he said, reaching up to place a hand on Haerelion’s shoulder. “I care not how it happened, but I do not see the point in berating him when he should be praised for his ingenuity and the miracle he has managed to create.” Turning Haerelion to face him, Legolas lowered his voice to speak to his husband personally. “And for that I am truly grateful,” he said solemnly before bending down the short distance to show Haerelion his gratitude with his lips.

“Harrumph,” Gandalf grunted. “Yes, yes, that is all well and good,” he admonished as soon as the two broke apart. “But the fact remains that he did something extremely dangerous that could have gotten him killed.”

“I don’t think so,” Haerelion murmured pensively.

“What was that?” Gandalf asked incredulously, bending his head to be sure he had heard correctly.

“I said,” Haerelion repeated with only a bit more confidence than before, suddenly feeling the need to defend his actions, even if he still didn’t quite understand them. “I don’t think it was dangerous. I don't think my magic works the same as yours, Gandalf.” Pivoting on the spot, he looked out over the ocean scape before him and away from his audience to avoid their respectively surprised and outraged looks. “And I’ll show you.”

Building the magic in his core once again, Haerelion spread his arms to indicate the space around them, and spoke once more.

“Sound.”

Like a wad of cotton they had not even been previously aware of was removed from their ears, the sound of the waves crashing, the wind pounding in the sails, and the wooden deck creaking underfoot blasted like a symphony. Three pairs of hands flew to their ears as they did their best to muffle the sudden burst of sound assaulting their eardrums.

“And then there was music once more,” Haerelion muttered as he cautiously removed his hands from his ears and turned back to the other two. But just as he’d caught sight of Gandalf’s shocked, yet still clearly disapproving face and Legolas’ amazed and appreciative one, he got whiplash as he turned back around to face the bow once more.

Less than a distance of 100 knots away to his elven eye, Haerelion could see white cliffs jutting out in the middle of the sea and rising high above into the obscurity of the clouds and fog surrounding it. As he stood staring in awe and anticipation, another piece clicked into place as the images before him began to make sense in his mind.

“I think we’re almost there.”

.......

Gandalf’s lecture was put on hold for the moment, and Haerelion hoped he would come to forget it altogether, as the three companions turned their attentions to look disbelievingly out at the approaching lands. Well, Gandalf attempted to, at least, as his sight did not reach that far.

Legolas, who had been taking in his fill, quickly turned to Haerelion with a wide, anticipatory smile, the excitement of adventure lighting up his eyes once more. Haerelion returned his elation with an answering grin, feeling lighter than he had in weeks.

Hope had returned to his heart.

Neither elf noticed the victorious look shining on Gandalf’s face as he kept his gaze glued to the direction in which the mysterious isle lay, but suffice it to say, they were all more than a little relieved that land was in sight.

Haerelion was the first to fully return to his senses and wipe the look of awe off his face in order to fully focus anew. Calling the other two back, the trio began to prepare to disembark and find a safe place to dock without getting torn to pieces by the jagged rocks ahead.

“I think I can do this,” Haerelion said softly, his eyes looking out calculatingly at the fog surrounding the treacherous terrain.

Legolas and Gandalf quieted at his declaration.

“This place is familiar to me, somehow,” he confessed with no small amount of doubt in his tone. It wasn't so much the sense that he’d been here before, but that he knew where he was all the same. That he belonged here in a way, and...and.... He wasn’t really sure.

He didn’t voice any of these crazy thoughts, though, instead repeating, “I’ll take the helm and moor us safely.” He paused. “I promise.”

Legolas and Gandalf just looked at him with blank expressions for several moments. Finally, Legolas smiled a bit bemusedly and nodded at the helm, indicating Haerelion to take it away. Gandalf took a bit longer to relinquish control, but eventually he mirrored Legolas’ actions, and Haerelion stepped forward, somewhat hesitantly, placing his hands on the polished wood.

Centring himself with a deep breath, taking in the salty air and all the smells that had returned with the light and sound, Haerelion let his instincts guide him for the third time that day. Concentrating, and relying on his intuitive magic, some patience, and the thankful silence from the other two, Haerelion flung out his hands in a wide, slow arc and cried, “Wind.”

Before their eyes, the thick fog ahead was blown away in a strong gust of wind. It cleared to reveal exactly what they had feared; small, narrow spaces between sharp, jagged rocks jutting out from the ocean floor that shined brightly under the high sun, nearly blinding them a second time that day.

Haerelion narrowed his eyes at the challenge ahead, noting the wind had begun to pick and was pushing them faster to their destination.

“Trim the sails,” he ordered, satisfied when Legolas acted quickly in response and they began to eventually slow down.

Then, using his experience from crossing the Belegaer half a decade ago, he was able to expertly navigate the rocky shoals and dock them in a small, relatively calm inlet by an opening within the face of the cliff.

After dropping anchor, grabbing their bags, and stepping off onto the first bit of land they’d seen in a good month’s time, their sea legs were a little shaky on such solid ground at first. But Legolas and Haerelion swiftly regained their footing and began the arduous climb up the white cliff face, all the way to the top to see what awaited them.

..........

The climb seemed endless.

The air was arid, the sun still high and beating on the back of their necks, and the glare of the white stone was almost painful. What's more, the journey was made all the longer by Gandalf, who while surprisingly nimble and agile for an old man, did indeed use his staff for more than just show and strictly magical purposes. Legolas had to physically take Haerelion’s hand and drag him back several times to keep the younger elf from bounding ahead in his excitement.

He was so close; he could just feel it! And no amount of climbing was going to dampen his spirits. He bit his tongue just short of telling his two companions to hurry up, but that didn’t keep him from being any less antsy and anxious to get there as soon as possible. He felt like a child again, coming just short of whingeing and stamping his foot at Gandalf to get a move on!

When they were finally nearing the top, Haerelion lost all pretence and rushed forward, eager to get there first and see what there was to be seen.

Sand.

It was a sea of sand, as infinite as the sea at their backs down below. And it looked pristine; completely untouched, as though not one soul had ever traversed these lands.

Haerelion stood at the top of the cliff on the edge of it all, several paces above Gandalf and Legolas who had yet to make it, and just stared out. A low, braying call came from above, shifting his attentions for a moment as he saw three albatrosses circling in the sky. They had not seen a seagull, or any other animals in the sky or sea, since before they had crossed into the Void. Yet here were three beautiful specimens of dark grey, black, and pure white plumage, flying before him.

Putting that odd piece of information away for later, Haerelion turned his attention back to the sand laid out around him. The fine, white grains were bathed in a light pink, reflecting the sky in its beautiful purple and pink colours, streaked and smudged in swirls across the canvas above. Haerelion felt like he was lost in some kind of dream, as such an idea held more verisimilitude than the fact that their current situation was actually reality. It was just too beautiful, even for an elf to behold.

Realising that he was beginning to sound like Legolas, waxing poetry about the sea and sky, Haerelion turned back to look for his companions only to see Legolas cresting the top.

“Ai! It is like a dream I once had in the Glimmering Caves,” Legolas cried as soon as he came abreast of Haerelion, his hand immediately going to squeeze his husband’s shoulder as though to prove to himself that he was not dreaming this time as well. “Endless sand with blood red skies and birds flocking above. Only the gentle lapping of the waves is missing. And,” he lowered his voice nervously so only Haerelion would be able to hear, “I hope nothing attacks us this time before we make it out.”

Haerelion shot his mate a bemused look, wondering where these strange words of being attacked were coming from. However, he did concede the point that it was a very surreal scene they had come upon, and let Legolas know that he would not let anything attack him up here without giving back as good a fight. No one and nothing would be allowed to hurt his Legolas. At that point, Gandalf finally reached the top, a little out of breath and bent over taking a short rest, distracting Legolas long enough from retorting dryly to Haerelion’s chivalrous, if not teasing, remarks.

Reaching into his pack, Haerelion retrieved his canteen and offered it to his mentor, who took it gratefully. Haerelion and Legolas were no more out of breath than when they had started the climb, but knew enough to be patient and wait while Gandalf regained his strength. After several moments had passed for them to catch their collective breaths, physically and figuratively, respectively, Haerelion made a move to forge ahead and the other two were thankfully quick to follow.

They trekked for hours upon hours across an endless stretch of sand, seeing no end in sight, not even sure what they were looking for to begin with. The white grains were hot against their feet, seeping through the thin leather of their shoes, but not too hot as to become unbearable. The only real problem was the endless stream of granules that were constantly making their way into their shoes and rubbing against their skin. It was almost enough of a nuisance to take them off, but Haerelion refrained somehow, knowing it would be worse if he took them off now.

All three travellers remained quiet throughout the trek, eyes forward bound, waiting for something, anything to happen. Up ahead, the albatrosses followed their progress, acting like silent guides to wherever world’s end would take them. Had they even made it to Almaren, or was this another place entirely? Haerelion could only hope they would find the answers he sought soon.

It was closing on the end of the day when the long awaited moment finally came: an end to the sand.

  
..........

Haerelion stopped in his tracks as his feet passed over the last of the hot grains of sand to stand among tall, cool fields of green grass. As he breathed out a sigh of relief, pausing a moment to peer out at yet another endless terrain of green, the air in front of him rippled like a wall of heat and an entire city suddenly appeared before of his eyes.

This was it. They had actually done it. They’d reached the lost city of Almaren!

Haerelion couldn’t believe it, after a month of sailing, years of travelling around Aman, and a hundred years before that of coming to terms with his magical abilities, he had finally found the one place that could hopefully provide him with the answers he needed.

That is if anyone was even here to answer them.

What was left of the once proud city were crumbling towers of high spired buildings, statues, monuments, temples, roadways, and what once used to be some sort of aqueduct system from the lake in the far distance. All was destroyed and covered in a thick layer of dust that looked as though it had not been touched in millennia.

Not everything was destroyed, however. Some towers still remained standing tall over the ruins of what once was clearly a beautiful city. Most notably, on the far left and right of the city were two towering structures that appeared to be extremely ancient, petrified white trees, twisted and warped in the most beautiful ways as they reached high up into the sky. They looked to be burnt in some parts, but otherwise unharmed, if no longer alive. The one to the left held aloft a large golden sphere that looked rather dull beneath the cloudy skies. The one on the far right of the city was similar except for the fact that it held an equally dulled blue sphere. Of all that remained of the city, these two standing structures were the most untouched; and yet, they seemed the most forlorn. Out of all the damage and decay, they stood proudly like two sad sentinels refusing to leave their post even after all this time.

“It can't be,” Legolas breathed into Haerelion’s ear as he too stepped through the hidden barrier and looked upon the demolished city with his own eyes. “The Lamps of the Valar!”

Haerelion turned his head at Legolas, wondering if he had heard right. “What?”

Legolas pointed unnecessarily to the two petrified trees in the distance that had just been holding Haerelion’s attention. “The Lamps of the Valar, Illuin,” he pointed to the one on the right, “and Ormal,” he pointed to the one on the left. “Created by Aulë and placed on Middle Earth, where they were said to be destroyed by Melkor in the First Age. This cannot be possible,” Legolas declared, shaking his head in disbelief.

“And yet it is,” Gandalf asserted, coming up to the duo, only slightly out of breath, and peering far out into the distance at the two impossible pillars of light that should not still be standing, let alone this far away from where they were originally lain.

“Well,” Gandalf huffed after the trio had been standing around, staring for several long stretches of silence, “Night is falling once more, and hopefully it will not overstay its welcome this time,” he muttered under his breath. “We should make camp and conti–”

His orders were brought to an abrupt halt as their attention was swiftly caught by the sudden illumination of Illuin, the orb changing from a dull blue to a blazing azure that bathed the entire ruins and the three travellers in a soft, eldritch light.

“I, er, I think we should wait on making camp just yet.” Nodding his head to the unearthly glow on their right, Haerelion silently waved his hand over his shoulder and continued their trek towards the welcoming light. At this point, he wouldn’t be able to stop and rest, even if he tried. Someone or something knew they were here, and he wasn’t about to wait til morning to find out who that was.

Once again, Haerelion took the lead and guided his husband and mentor through the silent streets of the deserted city, knowing that with every step he was nearing closer and closer to the softly glowing pinnacle. And from there, hopefully to someone he could talk to, someone with answers. He would not hold out hope that he would be blessed enough to meet with the exalted Eru, but he knew that whoever it was on the other side of that light had to be someone important, someone who knew who he was and how he had come to be sent to Greenwood.

Gandalf had been right in his observation that night was falling, and by the time they had reached the base of the petrified tree, which was marked with an equally white stone etched with the name, Illuin in Elvish, the blue orb was the only source of light left on the entire island. However, once Haerelion reached out and laid a humble hand on the massive stone, the light abruptly went out, and a deep darkness descended upon them.

“Heh, oops,” Haerelion apologised, quickly removing his hand from the monument, though it made no difference and the darkness did not lift.

“No matter,” Legolas waved it away, coming over to wrap his arms around Haerelion’s shoulders. “We have made it this far, which is a vast improvement from where we were just this morning. Let us rest for the night and then see where we need to go in the morning when the sun is once more hanging in the sky.”

Haerelion nodded, realising as he did so that he was incredibly tired, his eyelids beginning to droop as he leant back into Legolas’ strong hold. “Maybe you’re right,” he admitted softly, stifling a yawn as soon as he finished speaking. Pulling on Legolas’ arm as he hinted to what he wanted from his mate, Haerelion allowed himself to be laid down on the ground as Legolas retrieved a blanket from his bag for them to sleep on. They didn’t need any more as they didn’t expect to be asleep for long. As soon as first light shone, Haerelion would be up and pushing them to continue their journey once more.

Curling around one another contentedly, both elves began to fall slowly into a resting trance that was the first peaceful slumber they had had in weeks. Haerelion buried his nose into Legolas’ shoulder, a smile blooming on his face as he relaxed his body and mind, sinking into dreams that held all the possibilities and promises that awaited them come morning.

..........  
End Part 1 of 2  
~...~


	2. Chapter 2

...  
Red Sky at Night  
~...~  
Part 2  
……...

That night, under the extinguished sentinel of Illuin, Haerelion was spirited away in his dreams to a time long past.

The grand city of Almaren bustled with elves, all going about their business under the protection of the Lamps of the Valar. It was clearly a time of peace and prosperity, well before the time of Melkor and his reign of destruction. Haerelion wondered if any of the passers-by were even slightly cognisant of the destruction that was to come. What discontented rumours were being passed around, whispered under breaths in secluded corners? Such thoughts were of no use now, of course, as the past could not be changed. And in present day, all that was left of Almaren was a ghost-town floating in the abyss on the edge of the world.

Lost in thought, it took Haerelion several moments to realise that the perch he was ‘standing’ on was the light of Illuin, and that it was steadily brightening to a blinding blue beneath his feet. He brought a hand to his shield his squinting eyes, turning his face away from the glare and towards Ormal, which was also pulsing a brilliant gold in the near distance. He closed his eyes tightly as the two lamps battled for dominance, each more fulgent than the hottest star in the heavens.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the luminance started to fade and Haerelion dared to open his eyes once again.

It was there, hung in an invisible balance between the two lamps that the silhouette of a tall woman emerged. Though the shadows made her features indistinct and nebulous, it did not take Haerelion long to recognise her. His breath caught in his throat as he was rendered completely witless and awestruck. Faith, instinct, and intuition – an understanding he pulled from his heart of hearts – told him exactly who she was.

She was known by many names. Chiefly as Elbereth, or Varda, Queen of the Valar, wife of Manwë. Other elves knew her as Gilthoniel; Queen of the stars, or Star-kindler. Every elf knew who she was and felt her in all she represented, which was the very spark of divine creation, liberty, and the pursuit of living a morally meaningful existence. Her face was said to be the light of Eru Himself and it was truly beyond any beauty his meagre words could describe.

He looked on at her for what at once felt like an age and a single heartbeat. And in that undetermined span of eternity, he was overwhelmed with the knowledge that he knew everything there was to know, and yet managed to understand absolutely nothing. When retelling this moment to Legolas days from now, all he would be able to say was that he had been weighed, measured, and ultimately found wanting through no fault of his own. And that all was exactly as it should be.

Elbereth turned to look at him, or at least turned in his direction, for he could not properly see her face and meet her gaze as it was. Nonetheless, it filled him with a sense of calm and hope, and he would swear until the end of time that in that moment she smiled at him. Still frozen in place, Haerelion could only watch stupefied as she raised an arm and pointed a finger, directing the lamp to throw a beam of light eastward towards the sea, the opposite side of the isle from whence they’d come. No words were spoken, or further gestures made, but Haerelion was left with the distinct impression that he had just been directed on to the next leg of his journey. And what was more, it told him to not to despair; his journey was not yet over.

With a single, involuntary blink, the dream disappeared and Haerelion was pulled back to the waking world.

~...~

Dawn had broken cold and wet over the two elves and Istar, as though the sea had risen up and washed over them in the night. It left no more than a thin trace of dew on the skin and the faint, fleeting impression of the salty scent of the sea in his nose. Haerelion tried to capture the smell and breathe it in deeply, while doing his best to hold onto and savour the overwhelming sensations left by the dream. He felt a sense of calm and confidence, grounded in his own skin, coupled with a well of unbridled energy that begged to be released.

About to sit up, he shifted his gaze to his sleeping husband, whose face was inches from his own and whose arm was still thrown over his waist from how they’d drifted off the night before. Gently extracting himself, he rolled to his feet and padded softly to the petrified tree towering above. The blue sphere, which had been glowing brightly the evening before and again in his dream, was now pulsing gently once more. Hesitantly, curiously, Haerelion reached out and placed his hand on the trunk, just as he had done the night before. This time, however, instead of going dark, it flared even more radiantly, and Haerelion felt a quieting warmth reverberate from his palm down to the soles of his feet. Closing his eyes and letting his forehead fall forward to press against the wood, Haerelion incanted, “Hannon le an lîn gûr a golu, Elbereth.” (Thank you for your counsel and wisdom, Queen of the Stars).

What can only be described as a wave of courage and conviction flowed through him in answer. He now understood, at least in part, why Almaren was still hidden from the rest of Arda and remained a secret from even the inhabitants of the Valinor themselves. Some things were still too sacred to be made common knowledge. That understanding also came with the realisation that his trek eastward to the sea… it was his journey to take, and it had to be made alone.

Stepping back until only his fingertips were grazing the ancient pedestal, Haerelion craned his neck to look back consideringly at Legolas and Mithrandir. Both were still sleeping soundly, none the wiser to Haerelion’s internal plans. Hopefully he would be back before they even woke. Breathing in through his nose, he swallowed thickly and pulled his hand away. Before he could think better of it, he gathered his energy and cast a small, subtle spell on the two, pushing them deeper into sleep, and hopefully buying himself a bit more time to figure out where he was supposed to go.

Grimacing guiltily, he spared Legolas one last glance and made a silent promise that he wouldn’t be long. Then before he could change his mind, he orientated his body eastward and silently stole across the darkened green fields towards the sea.

~...~

Galvanised, Haerelion’s long, eager strides brought him to land’s end in just under an hour. He stood before a low-standing rock wall that separated grass from sand and looked out onto the wild, tirelessly crashing ocean waves. Toeing off his shoes, he stepped over the wall and sunk his feet into the dampened dunes. The sands were strewn with thick seaweed that had washed ashore, tangled with tiny shells, pieces of crabs dropped by seagulls, driftwood, and other debris that all gave off the strong, comfortingly familiar, briny smell that Haerelion had been trying to chase that very morning. It beckoned him closer, invited him to roll his leggings up his ankles, and wade right in.

Not quite sure what he was looking for, or what he was supposed to do from here – and not feeling too keen on swimming at the moment; especially alone - he stopped once the waves were about thigh-high and pulled himself up onto the nearest flat-topped rock to pause and regroup. His hands and knees slid across thick algae and seaweed interspersed with mussels at varying stages of growth making it both slippery and cutting.

As he slid to a stop, his fingers stumbled over something solid and immovable that sent a sudden jolt of sharp energy up his arm. Snatching his hand up, he fell back on his haunches and glared accusingly at the offending spot.

Still half covered by the wet plants was a rusted horseshoe that had rotted into the rock itself. It was surrounded by copper-coloured flecks and bubbles that solidified it as part of the stone, as though it had been left there by accident and sunk into the boulder over time.

There was nothing particularly special about it, though, making Haerelion wonder if he’d imagined the shock. Or perhaps it had been some aberration; a combination of peculiar static electricity and his own magic reaching out in his state of heightened vigilance?

Or was it something else entirely?

Leaning in closer, he could make out the faint, mostly worn-down words etched into the arch, ‘Seron Aearon’. “Sea-lover”, he translated aloud, nonplussed.

Slowly lowering his hand, Haerelion let his fingers hover inches above the object. Once again, he was met with a strange vibration that rolled leisurely across his skin. Leery, he switched tactics and instead reached out with his magic, extending his senses to gauge the objects’ intent. This time, when he ‘touched’ the item, the result was more prodigious. The wind picked up from a gentle breeze to a powerful gale and the waves around him swelled up and around before crashing outwards, leaving him relatively dry and the piece of iron glowing a cold, reflective blue.

For a moment, Haerelion had forgotten how to breathe. Slowly, he released the hold on his magic and everything around him calmed. Left dumfounded and astonished, he let his mind mull over the information he was able to glean from that flash of contact. The purpose of the enchantment was to transport. If he pressed his hands over the words, he would be taken… somewhere.

All common sense and Mithrandir’s teaching explicitly went against doing something so incredibly foolhardy. And yet… The horseshoe was clearly here for a reason, put right in the middle of the path Elbereth had directed him to follow. And he was here to solve a mystery, meaning there was bound to be some risks and unknown entities involved.

Haerelion sucked on his teeth, cast his eyes back the way he had come, and shifted his jaw from side to side. Now might probably be a good time to go back and get Legolas and Mithrandir; hear their opinions and have them there as back-up in case something untoward were to happen.

But as seconds ticked by into minutes, he stayed rooted in place.

The waves were gently lapping at his toes and he sensed the tide coming in. If he were to go back now, the rock would likely be covered by the time he returned. He didn’t want to lose this opportunity while it was within his grasp. He had resolved to do this by himself and he wouldn’t falter now.

Not letting himself debate a moment longer, Haerelion moved his left hand an inch or so to the right and brushed his fingers over the words. “Seron Aearon,” he murmured to himself before all air rushed out of his lungs and two things happened simultaneously. First, the iron began to heat up, burning his hand, and second, he felt a sudden pull behind his navel. A flash of rainbow colours burst across his vision as he was carried away from the rock and sea to places unknown.

… ......  ..  ….. …

“Ai!” Eyes squeezed tightly shut, Haerelion skidded to a halt on his hands and knees before pitching forward, his forehead slamming into the solid ground. Ground, as in dirt and grass, not rock, seaweed, and water. Cursing under his breath for several seconds, Haerelion spewed profanities and imprecations he’d heard only in Dwarvish as he blinked the rainbow coloured spots from his eyes and wiped his hands on his leggings. That had been one disorienting ride to say the least, he mused, clutching at the side of his head.

Swaying a little, he rose to his feet, noting that the sounds of the ocean had been replaced by birdsong and trees rustling in the breeze. Likewise, the smell of salt and fish had been replaced by moss, rotting bark, and fresh ferns. Haerelion was certain of only one thing at the moment – he wasn’t in Almaren anymore.

Feeling more than a little wary, he looked around, taking in his new environment with keen eyes and readying himself for anything.

A little ways behind him and to the left stood a large hawthorn tree. Its trunk was split three ways and it was leaning decidedly to the right, while its limbs reached outwards and upwards at odd angles. Surrounding him and the tree were mushrooms, arrayed in a near perfect circle with the tree as their focal point, all growing atop a hill. They were obviously not your average fungi; there were flat-topped and crested golden ones, red ones speckled with white dots, and oddly shaped white ones that dipped inwards in the centre. Underfoot was a soft bed of moss and loam with its sweet, cloying smell that reminded Haerelion of nights spent in the Old Forest outside the Shire. It had the odd effect of making him feel sleepy and content, like if he would just lie down, he could be lulled into sweet dreams.

“Hurlee!” a woman’s voice cut through the sleepy haze in his mind, and he whirled around to see a lady standing frozen at the bottom of the hillock. Looking right at him, she let out an unintelligible cry. And then in a blur that even Haerelion could barely follow, she was suddenly standing just outside the ring of toadstools. Her body was leaning dangerously forward, and her face was drawn in deep yearning, but she made no move to draw closer.

Haerelion’s back hit the trunk of the tree, jutting against his spine, as he attempted to put distance between himself and the strange woman. He supressed the urge to shiver under her intense stare that held him unblinkingly. She seemed to be taking in and scrutinising his every feature, while her hands twitched in an aborted gesture to reach out to him. All in all, it made him feel exceedingly self-conscious and distinctly ill at ease.

“I’m sorry, Madame,” he began slowly, wanting to break this strange impasse and deliberating on how best to handle the situation. Was this woman mad or just lost and confused? He took a second to examine her further. Her face was young, pale, and quite pretty. He was never good at guessing people’s ages, but if pressed he would say she was in her 30s. She dressed similarly to the everyday garb of the lesser nobility who lived in the city of Gondor, with a dress of deep browns and greens that was snug at the bust and waist. It had a modest neckline just at the collarbone and fitted sleeves. But her most striking feature by far was her bright red hair that curled down her back and over her shoulders with no elaborate knots or pins, just simply framing her face.

She was quite beautiful, despite her disquieting behaviour.

“Are you lost?” he asked gently, not sure how or if he could help her, but willing to do what he could if it meant she would stop staring at him so.

“Hurlee,” she repeated. “You are my Hurlee,” she insisted in a thick, foreign accent, her voice strained, and her face stricken with a sorrowful, aching expression that almost hurt to look upon. “Yeh’ve grown so much; changed so much. Oh, how handsome you are!” Even her tremulous smile was as pained as it was joyful, as though she couldn’t contain herself to just a single emotion.

Haerelion felt himself caught between pity, confusion, and embarrassment. But her next words changed everything.

“A mother knows. A mother always knows.” She reached out to him with two open palms as though to hold him, placing herself more directly beneath the weak sunlight coming through the cloud cover. And while quite solid-looking at first, the light that now shone upon her revealed her to be somewhat translucent.

Haerelion’s stomach dropped with a mixture of incredulity, amazement, and fear that gripped his heart and induced an almost out-of-body experience. He felt his face go slack as his mind went into overdrive. Violently shaking his head, his half-jumbled thoughts began spinning away having suddenly lost their centre of gravity. And all he could think was, ‘Was it true?’

Seeing that she had at least gotten a reaction out of him, the woman making such bold claims continued to speak in soft, hesitant tones. “I’m so glad you’ve finally come. I was praying I would see you again. Hurlee—”, she began again, but he cut her off.

“My name is Haerelion,” he said in a strangled voice, not sure if he was trying to inform, dissuade, or convince at this point, and to what end. “And who are you?” He asked firmly, though not unkindly.

The woman’s entire countenance fell in anguish as though he had physically wounded her. She shook her head dazedly and gathered her hands back to her chest. “My name is Lil Peverell, but to you I am yer mother. You wouldna’ remember, o’ course. You were only a bairn…. Only a bairn when I had to give yeh up to the Daoine Sídhe, the Faery Folk. They whisked you off to another world; a world where you would belong,” she said slowly, emphatically, “a world where you would be safe. And now I can see for myself how well yeh’ve grown for it.”

Haerelion felt his heart begin to race, even as his arms and legs still felt like lead and his stomach continued to drop lower and lower. Another world? Faery Folk? Given him up? This woman was serious. Surely, she was mad. She was actually claiming to be… She really thought she was… This was absurd! And yet, there was some possibility that he was actually speaking with his… “Naneth?” he whispered in question, wondering where his breath had gone and why it suddenly felt like a giant wave was crashing inside his chest and rising up his throat. (Mother)

“I have no way to prove it to you,” she admitted, her gaze still intense and disconcertingly overwhelming, “But I know it’s you. Yer eyes…” She paused and his gaze narrowed in on her own eyes, noting that they were an arresting, deep green colour and similarly shaped to his own, though not nearly as bright. And yet they bore a striking resemblance, nonetheless. It was a clear point in favour of her maternal claim, though not yet a foregone conclusion.

After a moment of uneasy silence, she asked, “You said they call you…?”

“Haerelion,” he answered promptly, voice still thin, but he was sure of that answer at least. “It means ‘distant star’, Adar would say it was because I was a blessing that came from afar”. For some reason it suddenly seemed very important that she knew that. If she was his naneth, it was important that she knew Thranduil had taken him in as his own son. He had been treasured and seen as a star of hope, auspiciously heralding in the Fourth Age. But he supposed that also meant he had once had a different name, one given to him by his parents – from another world, though? (Father)

Lil opened her mouth several times, her expression oscillating between confusion, regret, joy, and relief. “Huh-reh-lee-uhn,” she said, stumbling over the cadence of syllables. “Aye,” she commented finally, smiling somewhat mournfully, “that’s a good name. Yeh had a good home, then? A good family?”

Haerelion nodded, still trying to decide whether or not he believed her. Yet despite the fact that she was offering no further evidence to convince him, he felt his suspicions unwittingly dropping away bit by bit with each loving look she sent him. Maybe it was her tone of concern and caring? Or maybe it was the lulling effects of the forest around him? He didn’t know, but he did his best to refortify his defences, not wanting to be pulled into some trap by his own desires. All the while thinking - had Elbereth sent him into this woman’s path? Could it be possible?

“They raised yeh to be a good man?” He nodded dumbly again. “Respectful? Responsible? Honourable?” He nodded thrice in quick succession, standing a little taller and pulling his shoulders back. “Have ye a wife?”

Haerelion opened his mouth slowly, “Ehm. Actually, I have a husband. Legolas. He is my ada’s other son, though we did not grow up as brothers. He’s much older than me, and ours was a deep, abiding companionship and friendship that grew into something more.” He noticed, for the third time, the way her brows drew together in confusion at his use of Sindarin. (Dad’s)

“Oh,” she said in surprise, visibly composing herself. “Such pairings are not unheard of, o’ course. Rare, but not unheard of.” He wondered if she was referring to the large age gap or the fact that they were both male, but he kept his silence as she considered him with greater scrutiny. “He is good to you? You’re good for each other?”

“My better half,” he affirmed, a feeling of contentment and reassurance calming him at the thought of Legolas, finally slowing his racing heartbeat.

“Have ye been together long?”

“I have known him all my life. But we’ve only been married for 55 years, as I am just 105,” he said somewhat self-deprecatingly. Though he knew it worked just fine for them, it was true that such large age gaps were not terribly common. And though he would not admit it aloud, it did bother him at times to be so much younger and inexperienced than his husband. It was hard to fathom all that Legolas had seen sometimes. There lay an entire age between them; Legolas was born not too long after the start of the Third Age – less than a century – and Haerelion was born at the beginning of the Fourth. With their deep bond and easy camaraderie, it was easy to forget sometimes that Legolas had such a vast array of knowledge in his head. It helped that Legolas thought little of it and was of the opinion that it was theirs to share.

“Is that considered young for your People?” Her eyes were wide in shock and she gave him another look over as though she had missed something.

His People, he repeated silently, his mind returning to her assertion that they were from separate worlds. But what did that mean? All signs seemed to indicate that she was not Elven – she did not look it, she lacked the intuitive feeling of one connected with Nature in that preternatural way all elves had, and she clearly had no understanding of what he spoke. And yet, he was still willing to entertain her questions, half in hope and half in bewildered disbelief. “Very. Legolas is 3,037.”

Her eyes widened considerably as her eyebrows attempted to disappear into her hairline. “Ye’re immortal.” It was both a question and a statement.

“We do not age past a certain point, and very slowly at that,” he corrected; it was a common misconception among most Men, Dwarves, and Hobbits, as well. But what did that make her? “We can still die from a mortal wound or Fade into Nothing from a broken heart or trauma.”

That explanation seemed to shake something in the woman claiming to be his mother, as though the circumstance of their current meeting dawned on her. “How did yeh come to be here then?” She gestured to the land around her.

He glanced around him – realising belatedly that he had taken a few steps from the tree at some point – and was not terribly surprised to find the weird horseshoe that had brought him here missing. Still, he did his best to explain the odd magical object he’d found and how touching it had brought him here. “Wherever here is, he” finished with a shrug and vague gesture to his surroundings. He knew he should be more worried at present that he had no clue where he was. But at the moment, there were other more pressing matters to attend to and being “lost” was not his top priority.

Lil breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at his confusion before starting to explain. “This is the Place of In-Between, open to all races and manner of deceased and living alike. The dead can come and go as they please, but the living can only enter by invitation and cannot abide here long.”

Putting together some of the pieces that had hitherto escaped him, Haerelion understood then why she was not as solid as she appeared. And though he had never seen or interacted with a spirit before, he did not need to ask what manner of being she was to know how she came to be here.

As though following his train of thought, Lil explained. “I have long waited here at the hawthorn.” She gestured to the ring of mushrooms and the great tree it surrounded. “A perfect mirror to the one in the World of the Living, where I gave yeh to the Faeries. I come here often, hoping that one day you’ll grow curious as to where you came from, and eventually return.” She smiled again, a bright, beautiful smile that lit up her entire face. Again, she reached forward with an open palm, never crossing the odd circle of mushrooms, and silently asked him to come forth.

But Haerelion still had his doubts and too many questions that had yet to be answered, so he demurred, shuffling his feet slightly back towards the tree.

Seeing this, Lil dropped her hand despondently and bit her lip before attempting a reassuring smile that Haerelion found eerily familiar. He wished Legolas were here to see; he would know Haerelion’s expressions and habits far better than anyone to know if it was just Haerelion’s own wishful thinking or something more.

“Wellaway,” she sighed glumly, before pointedly sitting down at the edge of the circle, folding her legs neatly beside her and inviting Haerelion to do the same. Speaking in a somewhat forced conversational tone, she proposed. “Perhaps you could tell me a bit about how you came to find the portkey?”

“The what?”

“Ah, the magical object with the writing on it that ye touched to come here.”

Haerelion nodded. He supposed that was one mystery half-solved. But did that mean that the horseshoe came from here; this world - if he believed her about the different worlds, that is? Mentally shaking his head, he decided to put it aside for now and answer her question. Either way it couldn’t hurt, and it might even help bring some more clarity to the situation.

Sitting down, he crossed his ankles and began playing with the still damp hem of his leggings. The trick would be figuring out how best to reply in a way that would make sense to her, seeing as she had no concept of Arda - strange as that was. He reckoned that starting the story with Almaren would create more questions than it would answer, and so began an abridged version of Legolas’ Sea Calling, the crossing of the Belegaer, and his tutelage under Mithrandir. He watched as she absorbed the deluge of information, her face awash with amazement, apprehension, concern, and definitely more than a bit of censure. At several points in the story, her eyes positively flashed in what seemed to be recognition and confirmation, as though she was able to discern something more from the few meagre details he was giving.

Not pausing his tale once he was on a roll, he expounded briefly on how his magic, unknown heritage, and adoption had originally set him on this course to find out about his past. And how after many fruitless trips and dead ends, he, Legolas, and Mithrandir had eventually crossed the Ekkai into the Void, which had ultimately brought them to Almaren. He left out his dream and meeting with Elbereth – it still felt too personal, too private – and instead ended with, “When I woke this morning I was drawn to the sea, where I found the horseshoe affixed to a rock.” He shrugged then as if to say, ‘you know the rest’.

Lil opened her mouth to speak, and then stopped, an arrested expression on her face. “The portkey was a horseshoe, you say?”

Taken aback, Haerelion nodded.

“Made of,” she hesitated and looked around her, as though making sure of her surroundings, “Iron?”

Haerelion nodded again. He knew of little else horseshoes were made of and found the question exceedingly odd, but waited for her to explain.

Lil seemed about to say more, but then thought better of it. “Never mind,” she insisted, shaking her head. “What I meant to ask was, ye can still return to this,” she waved her hands in the air, groping for the correct names, “Greenwood and Ith-eon and Val-nor?”

Deciding not to question her odd statement about the iron for now, Haerelion replied, “We should be able to return to the Valinor, yes.” He accompanied it with a confident, affirmative nod, though he honestly wasn’t sure how he was going to return to Almaren yet, let alone the Valinor. “But, em, Greenwood, Ithilien,” he corrected gently, “and the rest of Middle Earth is lost to us now; few of our People have ever returned after making the crossing. And that was several millennia ago.”

Lil pursed her lips and frowned. “Is that normal for one as young as you to leave Middle Earth, then?”

Haerelion instantly regretted not breezing over that bit in hindsight. He sensed from her tone that this was going into infuriatingly familiar condescending territory that he’d dealt with from both friends and strangers alike. Wanting to just nip it in the bud, Haerelion was bitingly brusque and final in his response. “It was necessary.”

Thankfully she did not press the issue, and instead, after several moments of somewhat awkward silence, said in a gentle, conciliatory tone, “You must love him very much indeed.”

Her words did the trick of softening his irritation and he managed a smile. “Well, I did marry him for a reason.”

A wry smirk painted her mouth in response, her scrutiny relenting for the moment. “I see you’ve inherited my sense of humour as well.”

As quickly as the light-hearted mood had come, it just as swiftly disappeared, with Haerelion’s doubt resurfacing like the oliphant in the room – erm, forest. Haerelion bit his lip, not sure how to react. After all this, did he believe her? There were so many unanswered questions. So many things that didn’t add up.

After a prolonged moment of silence that seemed to stretch on for eons, she spoke again. “Will yeh come out here and join me?” Her arms were reaching out again, palms up as though asking him to take her hands. When he hesitated and failed to move, yet again, she said, “I’m afraid I canna’ pass the Faery line, even now.”

And there was that mention of Faery again. Faery Folk, Faery Line, Faery World.

‘Faerie’, as Haerelion knew it, was what the Hobbits called the Undying Lands, including Almaren. Was it simply a line of mushrooms that separated him from his nan- from this woman’s world to the world he grew up in with Legolas, his Adar, Gimli, King Elessar, Queen Arwen, Eldarion, and the rest of his adopted family? Did that mean he was still in Almaren somehow, just a totally different part of the island? And if that were the case, and crossing this line would take him to another world, was it a good idea to do so? Voices that were most definitely Legolas’ and Mithrandir’s asked if such an action was wise, and most importantly, if it was safe. And then they followed that by demanding he stay where he was until he knew all his possible options and exits, or barring that, to stay put until Legolas and Mithrandir found him and came with him.

Speaking of whom, he had already been gone much longer than he’d originally anticipated. They both had to be awake by now and likely starting to worry at his absence. Haerelion cringed at the thought of Legolas waking up to find him gone. Thinking in hindsight, he probably should have left a note of some kind before galivanting off like he had. Unfortunately, it was too late to do anything about it now, and he had only two real choices in front of him. Stay where he was and bide his time, or take a leap of faith and cross into another world?

This woman was, after all, claiming to be his mother. Surely, she wouldn’t wish to cause him harm.

Still, he thought it prudent to finally ask, “You’re not an elf, then, are you?” She shook her head and his heart sank, despite having anticipated the answer. Still, he pushed ahead and demanded, “Then what are you?”

“Human,” she stated matter-of-factly as though this were something he should have already known. He took a second look at the woman, his eyes squinting as he scanned her every feature with a mixture of accusation and curiosity. In spite of every piece of information telling him otherwise, in direct opposition to the fact, he still greatly wished to believe her, and he found himself grasping at even the smallest of possibilities.

Just then, the sun, which had so far been hidden by the dreary day – so very different from the clear skies he had left on the beach – suddenly decided to make an appearance once more. The entire hillside was bathed in warm light, and as before, Lil’s entire body flickered diaphanously.

Following his gaze, she raised her arms and watched dispassionately as they shimmered and disappeared in motley patterns. “Well, I once was human. But Wizards are not as long lived as the Fae and I left the world of the living some 40 or so years ago. Magical Folk are known to live a wee bit longer, but not as long as your kind.”

“You’re a wizard,” he blurted out in a rush, his feet moving of their own accord closer to her. “You can do magic?”

“A witch,” she corrected softly, “but yes.”

He was Peredhel then. And his mother was a magic user in this world. That explained how his conjuring and enchantments were so different from that of Mithrandir’s; his magic was of a different kind, not of the Maiar! It all made sense! (Half-elf)

Still, his father’s blood must run strong in his veins in combination with his mother’s magic. He had never had to make a choice for the eternal youth of the Elves, at least not that he was aware. It must have something to do with how powerful his magic was from his mother. Still, he felt compelled to ask the next question before he could question his mother any further about her brand of sorcery. “What kind of elf was my father, then?”

“Elf?” Her face scrunched up in confusion, at a loss for words. “He was not Fae, if tha’s what ye mean. He… he was human as well. A wizard from a very powerful and ancient line.”

No. Haerelion shook his head. No. That wasn’t right. He was an elf. What race, no one knew for sure, but all who met him would concur he was of elven blood. She couldn’t be his mother then. But even as he thought the words, and his heart thudded sluggishly in the depths of his stomach, a part of him knew he couldn’t take back the fact that it had felt so right when he’d acknowledged himself as her son.

“Yer father and I may have been merely Magical, but we knew from the moment yeh were born that you belonged to Tír nAill, the Other land. Not much is known about the Fae, I’m afraid,” she offered apologetically, “Or. Ye prefer to be called an ‘elf’,” she asked with a frown. Seeing that Haerelion was still speechless and looking defeated, she hastened to clarify. “I suppose they never told yeh. I can’t say why. But I can tell you what I know.

“The phenomenon is well known among my kinsmen as well as Magical Folk; that is, a child of the faeries being born to a human couple. Such occurrences are mostly from Wizarding couples, as magical babies are strongest and most compatible with the magics of the Fae. Though in truth it is no’ spoken of. A taboo subject.” She shook her head in disapproval before seeming to rid herself of her thoughts and directing a smile his way. “I reckon yeh’re quite a powerful wizard in your own right. It’s usually the reason such children are chosen to be faery-kind. Or, elf-kind? Is that right?”

Haerelion’s frown deepened. Was what she was suggesting even possible? He had never before heard anything of the sort. Surely, he would have read of such a phenomenon in the vast library of Greenwood or heard it from the many Valar he had met thus far. This – what she was claiming – was madness. Haerelion bit down his disappointment. And yet, he still felt himself drawn into her story and aching to believe it to be true. The problem was, they were essentially speaking two completely different languages and the gap between them seemed too wide to breach, despite how desperately he wished to.

And so, attempting to follow her line of logic to its inevitable conclusion, his thoughts turned to the crux of the issue. If she was his mother, why did he grow up in an entirely different world, lineage or no? There were humans in Arda; there were even the Dúnedain who were descended from Elves. But if her story was to be believed, these Faeries were not of Arda at all. They couldn’t be.

Haerelion squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his temples. His head was spinning in circles now, and he was starting to get angry. His next words left his mouth more harshly than he intended, and before the thought was fully formed. “Why did you give me up?”

His accusation was met with such misery and a look of absolute anguish that he almost wished he hadn’t said it. Almost.

“Yer father never fully forgave me for giving you to the Faeries,” she finally answered in no more than a whisper. “He believed we could raise you as our own, plenty of Wizarding families did so. It was an unspoken mark of pride among many – though considered bad luck by others. But the blood of the Fae was so verra strong in you. It was not something that could be hidden with glamours or explained away. Those eyes,” she murmured, her gaze looking lovingly upon his face once more. “Your gorgeous, bright green eyes. I could not even think to hide ‘em, even if I had been able.”

She met his gaze, pleading silently with him. “Giving ye up. It was no’ a decision I made lightly or easily, but I knew you were not meant for our world. Ye’d never have been at peace here, not when you could have a life with those who could understand yeh best and ensure that ye’d become all you were meant for. And as much as it pained me to concede,” she said, grimacing as though it were indeed a physical blow, “that wouldna’ have been possible had you stayed with me an’ your father.” Her voice broke as she finished, and she looked away from him for the first time since calling his name at the bottom of the hill.

Haerelion was reminded painfully of the dreadful moment when he and Legolas had tried to say goodbye to their adar. Haerelion had seared into his mind his adar’s look of utter agony, betrayal, and heartbreak when Haerelion and Legolas told him that they would still be following Legolas’ plans of leaving Middle Earth and their home. Haerelion could recall it as clearly as if it were happening now; could still see the desperate, pleading looks and hear his ada’s accusations, “Greenwood is your home, I raised you here. You were supposed to keep Legolas’s feet on Greenwood soil! You would not do this to me! You would not leave!”

Without thinking, Haerelion began to move forward. Even as certain details clicked into place and others still had him questioning his very foundational knowledge of the world, the belief that she was his naneth had taken a firm, unwavering hold in his mind, against all odds. He stopped abruptly once he was toeing the line that separated them, standing just inches from her. Somehow common sense and the smallest bit of uncertainty still held him back from taking that last step.

“Forgive me. Forgive me,” Lil said, wiping her tears away with the heel of her hand, making her blind to the wetness gathering in his own eyes. “I canna’ tell yeh how it warms my heart to finally see you here after all these years.” The gaze she set upon him then was one Haerelion knew well. It was a look of such deep, unfettered, and unadulterated love.

It was that look that finally squashed his last bit of doubt and convinced him that she really was who she claimed to be. That look coupled with the reminder of his adar drove Haerelion to take the final step and cross the barrier, overcome by the urge to comfort and forgive, in a way that he wished he could still do for his own ada.

Stepping through an invisible barrier, he felt a shiver run down his spine, but otherwise was given no indication that he was traversing between worlds. He closed the short distance between them and stood before her, towering nearly two feet above her. Absently he noted how the colours had dimmed and softened, making her look more corporeal. But he didn’t think on it long as his naneth was quick to reach forward and pull him into a hug; a tight, solid, loving hug that had him hunching over and burying his face into her hair as she squeezed him for all he was worth. “My son,” she sobbed, her words muffled against his tunic. In response, he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed back.

Finally, he thought he might understand the emotion behind the expression ‘a mother’s love’. There truly was no comparison.

… ......  ..  ….. …

They stood there embracing for several moments, though neither could say how long. Haerelion didn’t know when he closed his eyes, but when he opened them again, he noticed the world had lost its clarity. There was an indistinct haze around everything that made the blades of grass blur together and the discrete shades of greys, blacks, and greens of the rocks smudge into dim blobs of indistinct colour.

It was disconcerting to say the least; it felt like a misty film had fallen over his eyes and no matter how many times he blinked to dispel it there was no change. He noticed as well that the air seemed less sharp and the smells of the recent rain, of the moss on the stones and trees, and of the nearby animals were gone. All his senses seemed duller. The sounds of the squirrels chittering from deeper in the forest behind him had gone silent and he could no longer hear the buzzing of the insects underfoot. Even the nearby chirping birds had lost their distinctive cries.

He wondered if it had something to do with where he was, this Place of In-Between, where his naneth said the lines between worlds and that of the living and dead were blurred. Perhaps this place was just as solid and real as his naneth herself.

Lil pulled away and held Haerelion at arm’s length, unaware of his internal ruminations. “It is so good to finally be able to hold ye again.” Her hands came up to cradle his face, stroking his cheeks and turning his chin this way and that, studying his every feature. Her hands were not as solid and strong as they should have been, but there was no denying she was here, even if by sheer force of will.

Wrapping her hand around his upper arm she pulled gently and beckoned, “Come.” Turning around she began to lead him down the hill and into the surrounding forest. And Haerelion allowed himself to be led, though not without some verbal protest.

“Where are we going?” He craned his neck to look back at the ring of toadstools he had just passed and noticed that the very air around it was distorted with a prism-like warping. “Will I be able to get back?” he asked, starting to feel a bit of worry. His senses were dampened, and he was in a strange new world being pulled away from his only connection to Legolas and Mithrandir.

“Of course, you will. No one can stay between worlds forever.”

Somewhat comforted, he placed his hand over hers and fell into step with his naneth.

… ......  ..  ….. …

Meanwhile, a world away, Legolas was just waking up to the late morning sun shining on his face. Despite the warming light, however, he felt a chill run down his arms and reflexively reached out to pull Haerelion closer, wondering when he had let him roll away in the night. Groaning as his blind swipes came up empty, his eyes quickly came into focus as he rolled over to find the space next to him completely empty and cold.

Sitting up in alarm, he looked around himself and the still sleeping Gandalf to find that other than his husband’s rucksack still leaning against Legolas’s, Haerelion was nowhere in sight.

Legolas immediately reached out his senses as a deep sense of worry took root and his stomach began to churn with dread. When his search returned nothing, not even a trace of Haerelion’s presence, Legolas leapt to his feet and moved to alert his friend. It only took two words, “Haerelion’s missing,” to get the ancient wizard up and following him.

Neither said anything as they broke camp, grabbed all 3 packs, and began to track his footprints eastward at a fast, tense pace. They made it to the wall at the edge of the sea in almost half the time Haerelion had.

It was high tide and the beach was completely submerged, with the waves lapping at the base of the stone barrier in a slow, sluggish rhythm.

Legolas dropped their packs at his feet and lunged at Haerelion’s shoes still sitting atop the wall. He squeezed them in a white-knuckled grip. They were cool to the touch and probably hadn’t been worn in hours. How had he slipped away from them and for so long without either himself or Gandalf knowing? And more importantly, why? Legolas’s heart was beating erratically in his throat as he looked out at the horizon that was glittering under the sun’s rays, but was otherwise unmarred by anything but the gulls overhead. The skies were clear, letting him see for miles and miles uninhibited, and Legolas’ hawk-eye vision scanned all directions with focussed intent.

“Perhaps he has gone for a nice, brisk swim,” Gandalf said with false bonhomie, even as he too scoured the open seascape, his face pale and drawn. Sighing in defeat, he began berating his absent pupil. “Of all the impetuous, cockeyed, imbecilic-,” Gandalf grumbled in frustration, cutting himself off. “Foolish boy!” he finally cried in castigation, as the lines around his eyes and mouth tightened and deepened further.

Legolas didn’t respond and had barely heard Gandalf’s remarks over the sound of his own blood loudly pounding in his ears. Moving his scrutinising gaze back along the length of the wall, he cried, “There!” He pointed to a rock in the near distance with a flat top. It was rather unassuming, very much like all the other rocks dotted by the shore that were all but submerged in water. Unlike the others, however, the seaweed covering this one was matted down and clumped together around the edges to make room for two long leg-shaped objects. It was a longshot, but Legolas had a hunch that Haerelion had been there. The question now, though, was where had he gone?

“Haerelion!” Legolas cupped his hands around his mouth and cried out towards the sea. “Haerelion!”

There was no reply, no movement in the water; nothing. He didn’t know what he had expected. He began to wrack his mind for some other possibilities. Had a ship come by and picked him up? Had he slipped into the sea? He knew not to go swimming by himself! Or was there some other crazy magic at work here that would require even further out-of-the-box thinking? If Haerelion had taught him anything it was that the universe was the limit where magic was concerned.

Turning to Gandalf, Legolas could feel the dread in his stomach explode into outright blind fear. Gandalf’s answering blank and worried stare did nothing to quell the feeling.

Needing to do something, Legolas jumped down into the water, Haerelion’s shoes still in his hand and his own still on his feet. The water immediately reached his waist and he dove forward to begin swimming towards the rock. It didn’t take long before he was pulling himself up to kneel on the exact spot Haerelion had been, and he bent down to examine his husband’s imprint further. He found no trace nor indication of where Haerelion might have gone from there, but he did find a rusted, old horseshoe practically melted into the rock face. At the top, faded, but still visible he read the words, ‘Seron Aearon’. (sea-lover)

Reaching out to touch it, he –

“Daro!” (Stop!)

Legolas froze, his fingers millimetres from the object. Turning to look behind where the cry had come from, Legolas jumped in surprise to see he was no longer alone on the waters. Standing atop the gently lapping waves was a woman with flowing silver hair and simple blue robes that matched her slightly blue-tinted skin. She had her hand out in front of her, reaching towards Legolas, but once he leaned back and turned to give her his full attention, she too relaxed, but continued to frown at him.

“You are not the one I am looking for, and that portal was not meant for you. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“I am Legolas, Thranduil’s son, and I am looking for my husband, Haerelion. He was here,” he pointed to the rock below him, “just this morning. Please, I need to find him!”

The woman’s frown deepened. She turned her face to the side and seemed to stare at the iron object affixed to the stone in contemplation. Suddenly, out of nowhere, she asked, “Your Haerelion. Was he his parent’s natural son?”

Legolas opened his mouth in shock at the unconventional question. But time was of the essence and he didn’t have time to ask for explanations if she knew where his Haerelion was. “No, he was adopted by my father. Do you know where he is?” It seemed strange, considering he wasn’t even sure she knew who Haerelion was, but if there was a chance…

Amazement, shock, and sheer joy lit up her face, and Legolas was suddenly given the impression that he should know who she was. Breathing an obvious sigh of relief, even as she shook her head in disbelief, the woman smiled, “Mae govannen, Legolas! Avo Grogo, hervenn lîn maer.” (Well met, Legolas. Fear not, your husband is fine.)

Legolas was quick to return the greeting, wanting to move on and find out what she knew. “Mae govannen, Hirill.” He bowed his head, feeling too awkward to do more in his current crouched position. “Do you know where he is then?” he demanded soon after raising his head to meet her gaze once more. (Well met, my Lady (formal))

“Uinen,” Gandalf called out from the shore, waving his arm in a grand gesture and diverting both their attentions back towards the land.

Legolas’ eyes widened in shock as he did a double take, looking from Gandalf to the lady standing atop the waves before him. Finally, he recognised her as one of the Maiar. “Hiril en Aer?” (Lady of the Sea)

“Mae, Nin estar Uinen” the Lady nodded and held out her hand, looking much calmer and more assured now. “Shall we join young Mithrandir on shore? He never was overly fond of swimming. (Yes, that’s right. I am Uinen.)

Nodding dumbly, Legolas made to rise before remembering the urgency of the matter at hand. “But! Haerelion!” He looked back over his shoulder out to sea, still seeing nothing. A flash of light at his foot redirected his attention. Lady Uinen’s hands were glowing as she dropped a cloth to cover the horseshoe, which had begun to shine as though infused with a deep blue light. With some difficulty, she pried it from the rockface and picked it up, still covered.

“I was not expecting him here so soon,” Lady Uinen said conversationally, as though explaining something Legolas had not asked. “I had my misgivings when Elbereth first came to me, thinking that surely she had contacted the wrong elf,” she said, reaching over to take Legolas’ hand and pull him onto the waters with her. Steadily she walked them both back to shore over the waves as though neither of them weighed more than the slightest breeze. “But thankfully it seems my timing was just a little off. Worry not, we will go fetch your husband presently.”

Fears slightly assuaged, Legolas stepped back as Lady Uinen went to embrace Gandalf with a laugh. The two exchanged greetings and became quickly engaged in catching up, but Legolas wasn’t listening. In fact, he dearly wished to interrupt them and demand she take him to Haerelion now. How was Gandalf suddenly so calm when they still didn’t know where his other half was? Nevertheless, he was neither so young nor stupid to dare interrupt two Maiar, knowing the consequences such actions would engender. So instead he stood there outwardly calm, while inside he was seething, ready to erupt at any moment and itching to force them to act.

Feeling restless and absolutely useless, he shifted his weight to the balls of his feet and then back down to his heels, while looking back towards the rock he had just been on. He was curious as to what that piece of iron had been doing there and why he had been stopped from touching it. Unconsciously, he began to take a step closer to the two friends, intent on getting another glimpse of the horseshoe still held tightly in Lady Uinen’s hands. Fortunately, his movement seemed to have caught their attention, and the lady’s gaze was on him once more.

“Haerelion,” he repeated impatiently - desperately - not wishing to waste another second. “Do you know where he is? Can you take me to him? Now?” Legolas urged with asperity. “Hirill?” he added hastily, not wanting to seem disrespectful. (My Lady)

Uinen smiled, still looking infuriatingly phlegmatic given the situation. “I can, but we will need to leave Arda to do so,” she replied rather cryptically. Not bothering to wait on his answer, she began unwrapping the item in her hand, explaining, “This will allow us entry into a land generally reserved only for those marked by death.”

“Death!” Legolas howled. “What do you mean-,” his throat seized up, “Haerelion-?”

“Is alive and well,” Uinen hastened to clarify, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “And safe, I promise you. My apologies.” As Legolas’s body literally shook with relief from the sudden panic, he saw then a true expression of remorse and fear on Uinen’s face, as though the very thought of Haerelion in such danger was nearly as abhorrent to Uinen as it was to Legolas. It was baffling to say the least, but Legolas pushed it to the back of his mind for now in favour of getting to Haerelion first. He directed his attention back to the cloth with myopic intensity and waited for further instructions.

“You need only touch the words at the top and it will bring us to where Haerelion is.”

And though he knew he was going in blind and should probably ask some more questions before touching foreign magics, Legolas reached forward post haste and laid a finger next to hers. As long as it would bring him to Haerelion, he didn’t care about his own safety in the slightest. Gandalf promptly added his gnarled forefinger as well, at which point, Legolas felt a tug behind his navel, and then they were all pulled forward into a colourful abyss.

… ......  ..  ….. …

It was a relatively short walk through the forest, during which his naneth asked an endless list of questions, all of which he answered to the best of his ability. Tell me about the elf that raised you. He was widowed? The poor man! What was the name of your first horse? When did you first learn to wield a sword – you started with a wooden one, right? You were how old?! Promise me you won’t be putting yourself in such unnecessary danger again – fighting giant spiders with just the two of you! This Gimli fellow sounds intriguing. What else would he tell you? You and Eldarion must have been quite the troublemakers – God bless his parents! I should have liked to meet them both. Who did you first fancy? Was it a girl or a boy – were they pretty?

“Emig!” (Mom)

“You keep using these strange phrases,” she exclaimed. “I assume yeh’re not calling me something horrid.”

Haerelion blushed and shook his head, feeling an odd mixture of frustration, embarrassment, and affection. “They’re Sindarin words, the language used by most elves. It just means ‘mom’. Naneth is ‘mother’ and Adar is ‘father’,” he explained.

Lil hummed in acknowledgment, a faraway look in her eye. “I like emig; it sounds so… sweet.”

Haerelion’s blush deepened, but he answered her delighted smile with one of his own, nonetheless. Privately he would admit that it was amazing to finally be able to say these words himself.

Their little moment was interrupted however when they finally broke through the trees on the other side of the forest.

“And here we are,” Lil announced softly, directing his gaze with her own to a small house tucked away off the banks of a small lake and resting on a gently rising slope. It was less than a mile away now from the edge of the trees, and his naneth guided him through the gorse, tufts of grass, and soft bog lands with ease, telling him where to mind his step and where to jump. Soon enough they were standing before the heavy wooden door of a one-story stone cottage.

Lil paused and placed a staying hand on Haerelion’s chest. Giving him a look to stay put, she bent down and swept away a few grains of salt from the thin white line that circled in front of the door and seemingly all the way around the house. She then hesitated slightly before standing up and removing the iron horseshoe above the door, tossing it down into the grass by the stone steps.

Nonplussed, Haerelion watched her work, wondering if these were perhaps types of magical protection in his mother’s world.

Turning back to Haerelion, she bid, “You are most welcome to enter.” Pushing in the door, she ushered him to follow her inside. “Welcome home,” she gushed warmly, gesturing grandly at the room around her.

Haerelion gasped and spun around. What looked on the outside to be no more than a one-roomed cottage smaller than Legolas’ talan in Greenwood, was in fact a modestly large home with multiple rooms and windows that let in plenty of natural late-morning light. They were currently in a wide hallway that led to the kitchen on the right and a cosy-looking sitting room on the left. And further down, just where the hallway turned away, Haerelion could see a conservatory in the back. Along that same hallway there was a grand staircase leading upwards and three other closed doors on the landing above. The lines and dimensions didn’t seem to make sense for the amount of space, and Haerelion found himself blinking and squinting as he tried to figure it out, to no avail.

“This house has been in my family for generations. Yer father insisted we update the place when we married, so we made a few magical adjustments to make it feel more like home for the both of us.”

Reminded then of something that had been bothering him, Haerelion put aside his awe and confusion for a moment to turn to her with a frown. How was it that his mother was here, but his father was not? Surely he wasn’t still alive? Earlier, his naneth had alluded to the fact that his father had not agreed with sending him away, but did that mean he no longer wished to have anything to do with Haerelion? As much as he dreaded the answer, he still felt the need to ask the question. Mustering up the courage, he opened his mouth and proceeded to ask as much.

Lil’s smile immediately dimmed, and for a while she looked at a loss for words. Breathing out a sigh of defeat, she acknowledged, “He would have dearly loved to be here, if he knew. He never believed me that ye’d come back. Was convinced I had sent you off to a place ye’d never be able to return from.”

Haerelion nodded but held his tongue. He couldn’t imagine what his parents must have gone through after his mother had given him up. At the same time, he couldn’t imagine letting Legolas come to a place like this – somewhere in-between worlds that put him slightly ill at ease – alone. He would support Legolas no matter what, even if he was mad or resentful while doing so. Neither of them was perfect, but he had already vowed to follow Legolas to the ends of the earth, and he assumed that included into other worlds, if necessary, as well. And Haerelion was confident in knowing that Legolas would do the same. But every couple operated differently, he supposed, and he knew he would never get the full story of who his parents had been or were now.

“You will see him again, after we…?” he trailed off, not wanting to give words to the moment they would have to inevitably part just yet. Lil understood, though, and nodded. “Tell him I would have liked to meet him,” Haerelion confessed sombrely, feeling a short burst of indignation and anger at his father – a man he had never met – for not being here. Tamping that down, he looked to his naneth, reminding himself to be grateful that she was here at least. “And that while I don’t know what would have happened had I been raised by you both, I have had, and do currently have, a wonderful life and couldn’t imagine it any other way.” And he really couldn’t imagine giving up Legolas, the time with his adar, or his life on Arda for anything. It was inconceivable, and not something he would ever willingly trade away. “Please tell him that I am happy and so very blessed to lead the life I do.”

Her heavy nod and tight-lipped smile very soon gave way to another warm, loving, and wholly enveloping hug. And despite the weighty moment that had precipitated it, Haerelion rather thought he could easily get used to these embraces. When they finally broke apart, Haerelion pretended not to hear the tears in her voice as she directed him into the kitchen for a cup of tea.

The kitchen was a relatively sparse, welcoming room. There was a roaring fire in one corner, a long side table that took up the length of the far wall, and several cabinets on his immediate left that each seemed to be designated for different types of food. Haerelion was led to the centre of the room to sit at a small wooden table that was worn and smooth with age. Lil patted his hand, indicating for him to wait there before she went about making a pot of tea with practiced ease.

Despite his earlier assertions and confidence that he wouldn’t wish for any other life than the one that he’d had, he could not help but wonder, in that moment, what it would have been like growing up here. What would it have been like making meals in this very room, listening to his parents converse at the dinner table, and telling them about his day as he had with Legolas and his adar? How different things could have been.

Before he could delve further into those musings, however, his train of thought was cut off by two mugs being placed down in front of him. “Don’t worry, this is safe to drink,” Lil said with a wink. “You’ll still be able to go back home to your Legolas when we’re done.”

Haerelion gave her an odd look – while internally cringing again at the mention of his spouse, who was going to kill him when he returned. He had determined that most of the peculiar things she had mentioned and eccentric rituals she had done thus far must have something to do with her brand of human magic. For while he had never been as fond of tea as some other drinks, he would always drink what was put in front of him. Why ever would she assume that he’d distrust something she had given him? Did she not think he was raised with manners? Pointedly offering his most sincere thanks, he pulled the drink closer and curled both hands around the ceramic cup.

“You must have questions,” she said, taking a seat across from him and reaching across the table to place her hands around his own.

Of course, he did. His first thoughts were to question her about the unusual rituals and idiosyncrasies she kept making reference to, but then thought better of it. He’d rather spend their limited time together learning more about her, about his past, and about their family. He had plenty of questions about who he was, but where to start? He stalled for time by taking a sip of his tea, finding it even more bitter than he was used to. He put it down and looked up at his naneth’s expectant face. “How did you know…” he paused and reworded, “Why did you think I wasn’t… human?”

Lil’s face relaxed into an amused, if forlorn, smile that intimated she had anticipated this question. “As I said before, your eyes,” she sighed pensively. “Such a bright green that held a light o’ their own. And your skin,” she continued. “Your skin had a distinctive glow, especially at night. At first, we thought it might mean you had especially strong magic, but tha’ didn’t explain everything.” She paused and seemed to consider before asking, “Is your magic strong?”

Haerelion nodded. Mithrandir certainly seemed to think so, and there were so many things he could do that the Istar couldn’t. He supposed his parentage explained it.

His mother seemed extremely pleased with that answer, proud even. She squeezed his fingers. “I’m not surprised. Ye’ve grown up so well,” she crooned.

Haerelion turned his head away, bashful and embarrassed once more. He startled when he felt her hand move to brush a lock of hair behind his left ear, revealing their leaf shape. He looked back up at her to see her blink in surprise. “Yer ears were something else we noticed,” she disclosed, returning to his original question. “Though they weren’t quite this pointed and long, last I remember.” Her index finger poked at the tip of his ear teasingly, making him squirm in his seat. He supposed she wouldn’t know how sensitive elven ears could be.

“You were a restless child, yeh know.” She sat back in her seat and took a drink. “Never much of a crier, but you were always awake and alert. Couldn’t get you to sleep through the night for all the whiskey in Ireland,” she sang blithely with lilting, melodic intonation that she mirrored with grand, wave-like gestures of her hands.

Haerelion smiled, amused, having heard similar stories from his adar. Sleeping lightly was common in elves and getting only a handful of hours of rest never seemed to diminish his energy or magic supply. He surmised it wasn’t the same for Men or even human wizards; not that he knew that many to compare notes.

“I would joke to your father,” his naneth continued, her lips quirking upwards and her voice taking on a tint of irony, “that it was the Sea in your blood.” At Haerelion’s inquisitive expression she clarified, “Never being able to sleep fully on dry land. In the evenings, James would sit with you in the row boat, docked out there in the inlet, and just hold you as the waves rocked you both. Sometimes it was the only way to put you down.”

“Sea in my…blood?” he asked, having never heard of such a thing before. She didn’t mean it literally, did she?

“You said your name means ‘distant star’ in… Elvish?” He nodded to both questions. “Well Hurlee means ‘sea-tide’ in Irish. Let’s just say the MacEvans clan were well known for having a few selchies in their bloodline.” Her eyes glinted and her mouth quirked with a secretive smile before clarifying, “Seal-people.”

Deciding that he’d rather not know the exact details, after all, and hoping that she was largely being facetious, Haerelion pulled his drink to his lips and took another sip. Ruminating on her earlier remark, he supposed that his best night’s sleep had indeed been on a boat, or when he was by the sea, now that he thought about it. He’d always just attributed it to the fact that Legolas was happiest and slept best in those conditions. And when Legolas was happy, Haerelion was happy. So, it only made sense that if he knew Legolas was content and sleeping well, Haerelion would be as well. But perhaps there was indeed more to it than that.

Haerelion opened his mouth to ask more about this Sea-blood claim, when he heard a murmur of voices coming from outside.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Two heads turned in surprise as the knocking was immediately followed by the click of the front door opening.

Haerelion was already halfway to the kitchen door by this point, gesturing behind him for his naneth to stay where she was. One palm rested against the hilt of his sword, and the other was raised in front of his chest, ready to call forth his magic if necessary. Furtively, he peeked his head around the corner to the hall as the front door slowly swung open to reveal a tall, silver haired woman with lightly-tinted blue skin. But before Haerelion had even begun to take a step forward to confront the stranger, he was stopped by a familiar face pushing itself into view at the lady’s shoulder.

“Haerelion!”

The strange woman gracefully cleared the doorway to allow Legolas to rush forward.

Haerelion only managed to take two steps before finding himself completely engulfed in Legolas’ arms. The air was physically pushed out of his lungs on impact as they twisted on their feet from the momentum and force of the greeting.

Having been separated by two different worlds, completely cut off from each other, there were no words to describe the sudden onslaught of emotions and sensations that heralded their souls reconnecting. The simple understanding that their other half was there in more than just bodily presence was like being caught in a tsunami, and the two clung to each other desperately as they let it wash over them. On top of that, the excruciating pressure of inextricable fear, panic, and utter anxiety in Legolas’ chest that had been crescendoing for hours finally burst into unending waves of relief, which was mirrored by Haerelion’s own sense of contentment and knowing guilt.

Eventually, though, the passion and intensity quieted down to a strong, but steady undercurrent that held them fast as the two calmed enough to loosen their hold. And with the diminuendo came clarity and empathy once more. All that Legolas had experienced since waking washed over Haerelion slowly and methodically, making the younger elf grimace in shame. Too late had he realised how his abrupt departure and lengthy absence must have worried his husband. Winding his arms tighter around Legolas’ neck, he buried his cheek into Legolas’ shoulder and pressed his nose into the skin beside his husband’s pulse point, whispering words of regret and apology. Legolas responded in kind, digging his fingers into the small of Haerelion’s back and the base of his neck, pulling Haerelion closer as though he could physically absorb the younger elf into his body.

After what felt like an aeon, Haerelion was finally able to breathe easy again, not realising quite how much he had missed Legolas until he was back in his arms.

Breaking his hold again slightly, Legolas pressed his lips to the top of Haerelion’s head and buried his nose into his crown. “Please don’t ever do anything like that again.” His words came out muffled, but Haerelion understood them all the same. “Promise me.” Haerelion gave the barest of nods that he could manage with Legolas wrapped around him so tightly and repeated a muttered apology.

Neither were keen to let the other go or to let the moment end, but eventually they both moved half a step back until they were face to face. “Now,” Legolas said softly, his face a picture of relieved exasperation, “What has your mind in such a state of confused excitement; and better yet, where are we?”

As though the words had been waiting to burst forth from the tip of his tongue the whole time, Haerelion released in one breath, “I did it! I finally did it! I found her!”

“Who?” Legolas’ eyes finally left Haerelion’s and began to scan the hallway in interest.

Putting a hand on his husband’s lower back, Haerelion gently directed him into the kitchen. “Mellnín.” He gestured to Lil, standing warily beside the table, looking at them expectantly. “Meet my naneth, Lil Peverell. Naneth, this is my husband, Legolas.” (My dear; mother)

Flabbergasted, Legolas’ jaw went slack in shock as he gazed at the woman with utter amazement. “You- ! You’re-!”

Meanwhile, Lil’s face had grown stony and her eyes hard and piercing. She was quick to cut right across his babbling. “I have been given the impression that my son is much too young to be in the part of your world you currently live in.” Her words were as penetrating as her gaze and Haerelion’s hopeful, excited expression soon twisted into raised eyebrows and a melding of horror and shock. “I was told that your People age much slower and that by all rights he shouldn’t even be here with me now. So, as I am sure you can imagine,” her voice dropping lowly with danger, “I have a lot to say to you.”

Haerelion saw it coming, and he was sure Legolas did too, but neither elf stopped the woman as she reached up and slapped the older elf squarely across the jaw with a resounding smack!

“Emig!” Too late, Haerelion went to stand in front of Legolas, his hands raising in defence to ward off further attacks. “I already told you! I made my own choice,” he said slowly, yet forcefully. “Leave Legolas alone. He does not deserve your ire in this!” (Mom!)

His mother’s eyes cut to him from where they had been attempting to drill holes into Legolas’ skull. “You were too young to be making decisions like that! By your own accounting, you were still a child!”

Haerelion blinked. Gone was the calm, comforting woman with the sweet voice; in her place was a fierce mother dragon defending her young. And as much as he disagreed with her and her right to have any say in the decisions he had made for himself a world away, witnessing her reaction inexplicably warmed his heart all the same. But even that could not override his instinct to protect his husband at all costs, even against his own mother.

“Be that as it may,” he conceded carefully, knowing that there would be no winners in this, nor any answers that could suitably appease all parties. He could acknowledge that were it anyone else, she would probably be right. But this was him and Legolas, so all bets were off the table. “Perhaps I did not know the full measure of what I was getting into, or understood the magnitude of what it meant to be leaving at the time, but nevertheless, it’s what I chose.” He let that sink in for a second, his eyes never leaving hers. “And I don’t regret it. In fact, I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

As he spoke, he watched charily as his mother’s expression slowly changed from being ready to breathe fire to disgruntled acceptance. Haerelion stayed standing in front of Legolas for several more moments, until Legolas gently pushed him to the side, and stepped forward, arms down and turned outwards in a show of vulnerability. “You’re right,” he said, “I was too caught up in my own longing to finish the journey. With so many of our People leaving at the time, as Middle Earth ushered in the Age of Man… I did not consider long the consequences of my decision.”

“Other Elven children were leaving?”

Haerelion huffed. “I was no longer a child at the time. I was fully matured.” Both Legolas and Lil ignored him.

Legolas shook his head. “Not quite. Haerelion was the last Elven child since Arwen, who was over 2,800 years at the time. Haerelion is the youngest ever to sail, to my knowledge,” he finished sombrely, standing there as though waiting for another blow and opening himself entirely to her disapprobation.

The seconds ticked by in a silent staring contest, neither soul making a move.

Finally, Legolas grimaced. “I cannot change the past any more than I could find the words to properly atone for my sins. There is no justification nor words of apology that would excuse my behaviour.” He paused a moment longer and Haerelion could see his naneth slowly softening ever so slightly. “But I can tell you,” Legolas emphasised, “that your son is my entire world. I love him above all others. And he comes first, at all times, in everything.”

Finally, after some repeated swallows and misty eyes from all three present, Lil nodded and bid him to sit. “I suppose-,” she said somewhat brokenly, “that will have to do. For now.”

Legolas silently bowed his head in thanks and moved to pull back a chair for Haerelion when a thought struck him. He turned back to the doorway, peering into the hall where Gandalf and Uinen had been silently listening to the proceedings.

A deep red blush blossomed up his neck to the tips of his ears, but he did his best to push down his embarrassment as he invited the pair into the kitchen. “Ahem,” he cleared his throat. “Haerelion, Madame Peverell. May I introduce to you Lady Uinen, Maiar and Mistress of the Sea,” he gestured respectfully to the great lady, “And Mithrandir, the White Wizard.”

“You are most welcome to our home, my lord and lady,” Lil greeted, sketching a deep curtsey with her head bowed.

“Yes,” Haerelion echoed quickly, reeling with shock at having recognised the name. Standing at attention, he swept his hand over his heart and bowed his head forward. “Le suilon, Hirill! Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo!” (I greet thee, My Lady. [Sindarin/ formal] A star shines on the hour of our meeting. [Quenya])

“Haerelion!” Uinen smiled warmly, her entire face brightening with gentle affection. “How you’ve grown, my dear.” She drew further into the room and came to clasp his hands, bringing them up to her bosom. “A bright star indeed.”

Taken aback by her familiarity, Haerelion’s smile slipped and his eyes widened in confusion. “Have– Have we met before?”

“Not that you would remember,” she said softly, her voice holding the depths of mystery and sadness as she shook her head and let his hands fall from her grasp. Haerelion was suddenly plagued with a sense of déjà vu, having yet another woman telling him he was too young to remember her only hours apart from one another. “You were still no more than a babe when I took you in my arms and brought you into our world.”

All eyes had turned to Uinen, looking at her with various shades of astonishment.

“So it is true, then?” Haerelion quietly breathed, heaving a weight off his shoulders he hadn’t known had been there. For all the leaps of faith he had taken, to hear the truth confirmed by one of the Maia! That Eru’s chosen had somehow had a hand in his coming to Arda was the final validation he needed for his heart and head to finally meet as one on the matter.

“And- And you made this possible,” Haerelion continued, gesturing to the room at large and then frantically pointing to both himself and his naneth.

Lady Uinen, who was watching Haerelion closely, gave the most imperceptible of nods to corroborate.

‘Thank you!” The words echoed between mother and son with equal bouts of gratitude and indebtedness. The mere recognition of what she had done for them was not enough, but Haerelion knew nothing ever would be.

Uinen smiled in acknowledgement. “I am sure we shall go into the finer details soon, but let me first say that despite your earlier-than-expected return, I am elated to see the fine elf you’ve become.”

Maybe it was the caring, familial way in which she spoke to him. Or the way her hands came up again to clasp his arms as she looked him over with something akin to pride in her eyes. But whatever it was, Haerelion found himself eschewing proper etiquette, putting aside the many questions he had, and all but demanding an answer to the one question that had been tormenting him for ages. “Am I, though?” he all but blurted out. “Am I an elf?”

Thankfully, Uinen did not seem to mind his brusqueness, even as Legolas and Mithrandir let loose disapproving expressions at his insolence. Haerelion sucked in his lips and bit down as his eyes darted between the two, but otherwise refused to show contrition, looking adamantly at Uinen with a stubborn lift of his chin. He kept his eyes glued to her face, watching as her expression grew thoughtful and she tilted her head to the side.

The seconds eek by agonisingly and strangely in tune to the pounding of Haerelion’s heart. His heart was the only thing he could feel at the moment, not even Legolas’ hand stroking the small of his back.

At long last, though, she replied. “From our world’s perspective, yes, you are.” Sensing there was more to come, Haerelion held his breath. As predicted, Lady Uinen continued, “From your mother’s world, however, you would be considered one of the Blessed, one of the Fae. They are cousins to the Elves and similarly have few offspring.” She moved to clasp his hands again, squeezing them softly and bringing him back to the table. She pushed him down to sit as one would a child, and then sat herself at the head of the table to his right.

Taking that as their cue, the other three shuffled to find seats as well. Lil resumed her original chair, which was now at Haerelion’s left side, while Legolas and Gandalf were forced to the other side of the table; Legolas right across from Haerelion, next to Uinen, and Gandalf at the elf’s right, across from Lil.

Haerelion hardly noticed the sudden movement, however, waiting for Uinen to explain. Which she did. “But the Fae, unlike the Elves, can bless a human woman while she is pregnant, endowing the child with the heritage of their People. The Fae, from what I know, are especially adept at sensing when Magic is strong in a child at conception. These children, when they are born, are more Fae, or elven in your case, than human.”

Lil, who had been listening to the Lady’s explanation just as intently, chimed in then. “Normally that would just mean you would grow to be a powerful wizard. Many changelings who are witches and wizards are kept safe from the Faeries sneaking in and stealing what they have laid claimed to by strong family wards around their homes. They grow up the same as their peers, though much stronger and with a greater affinity for magic, and they tend to have very charismatic personalities. It is very easy to spot a changeling, even with glamours and cloaking spells. Spells that hide their natural features,” she elucidated at Haerelion’s confused look. “But you were different,” his naneth paused and breathed in deep. Her lips pressed down and turned in an ironic smile. “Your features were distinctly Fae, and you were much stronger in magic than most wizard changelings. The things you could do through will alone at only a few days old! It was simply a matter of time before the Faeries would find you, strong wards or no. And so, I did what I did. I dinna’ want you hiding all your life.”

Haerelion looked from his naneth to Lady Uinen, over to Gandalf, and then let his eyes come to rest on Legolas. Legolas was the one person he held in highest esteem. The one he would protect against all costs. The one who he had built a life with, dropped all inhibitions with, and grew with every day in all the small, inconsequential ways. While he would always wonder what might have been had his parents decided to keep him and if he had grown up in another world, where wizards and magic were in more abundance, he would never harbour any regrets.

Turning back towards his naneth, Haerelion could see it in her face that though he had forgiven her, she had not yet forgiven herself. Reaching over to enfold her in his arms, he confided, “You gave me a great gift by sending me onto the path towards Legolas, Adar, and everyone in Arda. Thank you,” he intoned. Lil clung to him tightly and Haerelion could feel a distinct wetness soaking into his collar, but he tactfully ignored it and gripped her tighter.

After a respectable amount of time had passed, Haerelion let go and allowed Lil to straighten up, swiping the side of her forefinger under her eyes and placing the handkerchief Haerelion had given her to her nose. Still looking away from her guests, Lil pulled out a thin piece of wood from her pocket and with a swish and downward slash, more tea was made. An additional circular motion with her wrist saw the tea and extra mugs floating towards the table of their own accord and settling in front of each person, not spilling a drop of the steaming liquid.

“Is that what you use to do magic,” Haerelion asked, his eyes glued to the small stick in fascination.

“My wand, yes,” Lil nodded. Looking up to face him again, her face was suddenly dry and devoid of any evidence of tears, as if by magic. Haerelion was rather inclined to believe that that was exactly what it was. “How do you focus your magic,” she asked, just as curious.

“Well,” Haerelion shrugged uncomfortably. “Mithrandir uses his staff,” he nodded to the wizard’s tall, white walking stick now resting against the wall. “But I, em, don’t use anything.” To prove his point, he made a come-hither gesture with one hand and willed the tea mug to gently float up and towards him until the handle was between his fingers and thumb in his hold. Looking back up at his naneth, both mother and child regarded each other contemplatively, each with a million questions etched on the tips of their tongues. Unfortunately, now was not the time to have this discussion, and Haerelion had to discernibly restrain himself from saying more. Instead, he turned back to Lady Uinen, who looked equal parts curious and amused.

“Apologies, my Lady,” Haerelion implored. “If you could please tell us more,” he invited, turning back to face her fully.

Graciously, Lady Uinen picked up fluidly from before. “As you have surmised, though your mother gave you to our cousins, you did not remain with them for long. Shortly after you joined the Fae, there was a great upheaval between the Unseelie and Seelie courts – different races of Fae with very different codes of honour,” she said darkly. “I am not well acquainted with their politics, but I understood that it was serious enough for a new-born child to be in grave danger. And it did not look like it would be ending any time soon. Knowing this, the Seelie court decided to utilise the connection between our two worlds and send you somewhere safe.

“I received the message for help through the waters and came to fetch you. Through a portal I was given you,” she looked at Haerelion, her eyes glazing over with memory. “And a horseshoe wrapped extensively in a thick piece of cloth. I was told to keep it safe for if you ever wished to know more about the place of your birth.”

“Certainly kept it in a secure enough hiding place,” Gandalf griped, adjusting his robes and re-crossing his arms in blatant ire.

Lady Uinen bowed her head in apology, a sheepish grimace marring her face. “Well,” she stressed, “I, too, did not expect you back so soon. Though I suppose I should know to expect the unexpected where you’re concerned.”

“I surely do,” Legolas affirmed, using that chipper tone of voice that left Haerelion wondering if he was being complimented or subtly complained about, and so settled on levelling the older elf with a mildly suspicious glare.

You did manage to find it, after all,” Lady Uinen said in what was obvious praise.

Blushing, Haerelion was quick to correct, “With some help.”

“Yes, I heard, and was not the least bit surprised.” She smiled. “You are well loved by our Creator and the Valar, and word does get around.” Her voice grew soft and tender. “Although I may have had much to do with that. Though you were never mine, it was not from lack of desire to keep you.”

Haerelion blinked, once more overwhelmed by the admission, and wondering if he could handle many more heartfelt confessions and world-altering revelations in one day.

“There was no doubt in my mind that you were something very special the moment I held you in my arms,” Uinen continued as though she had not just confessed to something so earth-shattering as wanting to raise a child from another world, let alone Haerelion. “You were such a strong, lively child; eyes wide open through the entire exchange. And yet you calmed instantly at my breast. The sea in your blood called out to my own, and guided me, as though by Eru’s own hand, to do more than just allow you into our world. I bestowed upon you the gifts of the Maiar, as well as that of the Teleri elves, giving you the best head start that I could.”

Thunderstruck, and once more deeply touched, Haerelion opened his mouth to say… something, but his naneth beat him to it.

“Thank you,” she said with such fervent warmth and gratitude that Haerelion wondered if there was not a touch of magic in her words. “Thank you for taking care of my son.”

Haerelion nodded in concurrence, even as he felt his cheeks heat up under the tender scrutiny of the two women; who, just this morning had been utter and complete strangers to him. “For all my ignorance up until now, I am grateful and feel eternally blessed to have been loved and cared for by you both.”

“As am I,” Legolas echoed in agreement, reaching over the table to take Haerelion’s hand in his own.

“There is nothing to thank,” Uinen shook her head. “Indeed, one could say I acted selfishly; a magical child in Arda is rare enough, but not only was magic already exceedingly strong in you, there was the Sea in your blood as well. You, Haerelion, were something much more.”

Overcome, Haerelion breathed out an involuntary snort of disbelief. “I suppose you could say that. Part human, part Faerie or shee - or something, part Maia, and part Teleri elf.” That certainly was an interesting mix, if there ever was one.

“Actually, you’re not human anymore,” Uinen corrected. “You had very little to begin with when you were born, and what you did have was weaned out of you when the Fae took you as their own.”

Haerelion numbly nodded, his heart still pounding in his throat at the final verdict, and absently wondering why no one else appeared the least bit perturbed by any of this.

“That must be why iron does not affect you,” his naneth muttered seemingly to herself, as her eyes had glazed over, and she appeared be deciphering something in her head.

“Yes, that is true. We are not afflicted by the same aversions to metals as our cousins. Any sensitives or vulnerabilities he might have once shared with the Sídhe have since been expunged.”

“It is all rather remarkable,” Legolas spoke up in awe. And as strong fingers squeezed his own, Haerelion felt a small flicker of doubt that had sprung up at the confirmation of his rather unconventional heritage be firmly squashed. He supposed they had long ago entertained the possibility that he was more than an elf, potentially not even an elf at all. And though ‘Fae-changeling-Sídhe’ was well beyond their original scope of understanding, he supposed it didn’t matter because it clearly hadn’t changed Legolas’ opinion of him in the least.

“Hmph,” Gandalf grunted thoughtfully. “That certainly explains a lot. Mixing magics like that! It’s a wonder you managed to get anything out of my teachings at all. Difficult to teach,” he growled in disbelief, “That doesn’t describe the half of it!” He jabbed a finger in Haerelion’s direction, a mixture of pride, annoyance, and satisfaction on his lined face.

Haerelion suppressed a smirk at his mentor, accustomed to his rough demeanour. He knew for a fact that the old wizard was indeed quite fond of him and had it on good authority that the Maia actually enjoyed the challenge Haerelion presented. Most of the time.

“No, I am sure he was not an easy pupil, my dear friend,” Lady Uinen agreed with a chuckle. “His magic is a uniquely singular combination to be sure. I am sorry I did not take his future tutelage into account at the time.”

Haerelion sat back and listened as the two old friends continued to banter over him, all in jest and with an undertone of deep caring. It was an odd feeling, Haerelion pondered, to have been loved by so many who saw a greater future for him than what they could each individually foster. And in that moment, Haerelion was struck by the thought that he was currently surrounded by family; people who had helped decide the course of his life thus far and were each partly responsible for the person he had become and was still growing to be.

The yearning and regret he felt for his adar sharpened congruently with that sudden realisation, but overall left him with a deep sense of gratitude, joy, and contentment. Not to mention an added pressure of actually living up to this greatness they all seemed to see in him.

Legolas’ voice broke through his thoughts then, pulling him back into the conversation. “So you blessed him as one of the Teleri, who are well known for their love of the forest and sea,” he pointed out in amusement, “And sent him with the Eagles into the path of two elves descended from the Teleri. One of whom was already bound by the Call of the Sea,” Legolas concluded the tale with a solemn air of finality. And Haerelion supposed when he put it that way…

“Yes,” Uinen confirmed. “In a way, it was what drew you so closely together. Though you may have rejected the Sea in your heart the moment you saw it as a threat to your relationship with Legolas, you could not dismiss it forever. Blessing or curse, it is indeed in your blood.”

Along with a few other things, Haerelion silently quipped, mentally placing aside that particular observation for later. He knew he would be reviewing and reliving these memories for many sleepless nights and centuries to come. He would painstakingly scrutinise every minute detail until he was satisfied. And even then, he knew he would bemoan questions he’d not thought to ask in the moment. But for right now, he could not think of anything more that needed to be said.

Lady Uinen levelled him with a steady, discerning stare. “It is something you will come to understand in time.” Haerelion could not be sure if she was referring to his patchwork lineage, his affinity for the Sea, his connections to his human origins, or a little bit of everything, but it did serve to calm him slightly, nonetheless.

Just as a comfortable silence was beginning to settle around the cosy kitchen, both Lady Uinen and Lil suddenly stood up at attention and cocked their heads towards the front of the house, ears tilted as though hearing the same, inaudible message. Moments later, by tacit agreement, the women stood from their chairs, eyes darting to the window.

“Come,” his naneth said, her voice eager and insistent, with an anxious, anticipatory smile stretching her face. “Our time here will be drawing to a close all too soon.” She reached a hand out to Haerelion. “You must return before the sun has set, and I wish to know all I can about you before we are forced to part.” Haerelion rose easily from his seat and allowed himself to be led away, knowing that their remaining time could never be enough.

At the doorway, Lil paused and looked back. After a short, internal debate that flashed across her face, she turned slightly to stretch her free arm back towards the table. “Will you come as well,” she beckoned sheepishly to Legolas, “I have a feeling I will not hear the whole story as it stands without my son’s other half giving his two-penny worth.”

To Haerelion’s trained eye, he could see Legolas’ eyes light up in relief and delight, even as he schooled his features and stood up quickly to join them.

“And we shall be waiting for you at the hawthorn tree when it is time to depart.” Gandalf nodded in agreement, coming around to stand beside Uinen.

As the trio left the house, Haerelion breathed out a silent huff of amazement and released tension. They had finally, actually, unbelievably done it; sailed to the ends of the earth, found a long-forgotten land, and travelled to another dimension all to find the answers of Haerelion’s past. And yes, it felt good.

Preceding the Maiar to the door, Haerelion took Legolas’ hand and allowed his naneth to lead the way around the other side of the cottage and down the hill towards the lake.

… ......  ..  ….. …  
End of Part 2  
… ......  ..  ….. …

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: For those of you who may be confused, Faeries are repelled by iron, and horseshoes nailed to a doorway were used to ward off any fey. Lil’s joke about the drink being safe refers to the fact that you should never accept food from a faerie, and that eating any food while in their lands meant that you would be stuck there forever. And finally, changelings are faery children being left in the place of stolen human babies. Changelings were usually blamed when a child was sickly or deformed, with the belief that the faeries had taken the healthy child and left an afflicted faery child in his or her place.


	3. Epilogue

......  
Part 3  
……  
The Epilogue and Many Partings  
…….

‘This was always my favourite spot to come and think,” Lil declared as she treaded carefully down a steep slope. At the bottom stood a tall boulder with a thick rope wrapped around its girth, tying it to a small boat which bobbed in the calm lake water. She veered left at the rock and pushed aside a wave of tall grass surrounding the bank to reveal several smaller, rounded stones covered with moss, looking almost soft and inviting. This was apparently their intended destination.

“Come sit,” Lil said, picking the farthest rock to sit down on. Haerelion watched in fascination as she swept her legs to the side, crossed her ankles, and fanned her skirts out evenly around her. Though she did not have the typical striking, distinguished features of the elves, nor the preternatural sense of one who is so attuned with Nature, she had an elegance, finesse, and beauty all of her own that he admired.

Haerelion remained standing, watching her for a moment in dismay, unable to move. At some point over the course of the morning something had twisted into place inside him. And his original simple desire for knowledge, to understand where he came from had turned into a gut-wrenching homesickness. Homesickness for a place he’d hardly lived in, for places he could never return to, for a person he by all technicality barely knew, and for someone who he wasn’t sure he would ever see again. But right now, most of all, what he really wished he could do was just reach out to her and tell her how much he missed her. It felt so wrong that just when he was finally getting the chance to know her, they were going to be separated again.

Catching his eye, Lil stared at him intently and Haerelion suddenly felt the need to bow his head and avert his eyes, discomfited at being laid so bare and vulnerable by a woman who couldn’t possibly know him as well as she did. She smiled sympathetically and patted the seat beside her. “Let us make the most of the time that we have. Come,” she repeated, “Tell me about growing up with the Elves. Tell me everything you can.”

Finally moving, Haerelion took a seat, sliding his still bare feet into the water in front of them. It was colder than he anticipated, but nothing compared to the chill of the ocean in Almaren.

He turned to Legolas as his husband bent down to sit beside him. Before he even knew he needed it, Legolas had once again anticipated his plea and offered to begin. He gave an exceptionally truncated version of the Ring Wars, placing the most focus on what it was like to come home and meet Haerelion for the first time. He told stories of Haerelion growing up that even Haerelion did not clearly recall, being a mere babe at the time. And he went into great detail of how he, Haerelion, and Thranduil had become a family. As the stories progressed in years, Haerelion started to jump in and add his own perspective and teasing remarks. Before long, the two had begun to speak in tandem, flowing seamlessly from one story to the next. They hit all the key moments in Haerelion’s life, and then some, all the way up to their wedding and leaving for Ithilien. By unspoken agreement, neither leaving Middle Earth nor Legolas’ sea-calling were brought up again.

Lil was the perfect consummate listener. Giving them her rapt attention, she gasped with appropriate affect in all the right parts, blanched and scowled disapprovingly at their dangerous stunts, balked and turned away at the more disgusting details that were typical when dealing with boys, and crooned in sympathy when the tale warranted. By the time they came to the end she had but one question.

“So, how did the two of you… shift, so to speak, from being mere friends to… more? Was there a moment of,” she gestured graspingly with her hands, “epiphany? Realisation?”

Haerelion looked at Legolas in surprise. He had never been asked that so directly before. It had happened so gradually and unassumingly that it seemed natural by the time he kissed Legolas in Anfalas. He hadn’t even tried to fight it, even knowing what he did at the time that Legolas was destined to sail off to the Undying Lands and leave him behind.

Both elves continued to stare at each other as they contemplated the question, trying to come up with an answer that would make sense to another person.

“I remember,” Haerelion finally spoke up, slowly gathering the words to himself, “being in the library with one of my tutors. Ada was always adamant about my studies.” He stopped to clear his throat and then tilted his head, speaking in a slightly mocking tone and repeating something that had obviously been drilled into his head. “Being well-bred is being well-read.”

“It’s about building a good moral character!” Legolas chimed in using the same deeper, mocking tone and a fond smile.

“Yes,” Haerelion nodded, pulling a long, sombre face, trying to look down his nose at his slightly taller husband. “Let us never forget the tale of Cincinnatus!”

“A mere mortal with the wisdom of Eru himself! Stepping up to the call of duty when the people needed him most, but able to walk away from the promise of more power when that obligation was complete.” Legolas continued the tale, losing the teasing tone and betraying just how much he actually enjoyed and appreciated the story.

“Power corrupts,” Haerelion agreed, raising a warning finger into the air, “And absolute power corrupts absolutely! But Cincinnatus showed that there is hope if one mere mortal man alone can keep his head and resist it; he walked with kings and yet kept the common touch.”

“No other Man, not of Númenórean descent, has ever been so lauded and celebrated by the Elves.”

Lil’s eyebrows rose into her hairline, then dropped with a sagacious smile. “Sounds like quite the tale. Perhaps you can tell me about it later. But I believe you were saying,” she trailed off promptingly.

“Right! Being exposed to a wide array of literature, the theme of love came up most frequently. Elves, being so long-lived, will marry for love and for life,” Haerelion explained. “So, it should be no surprise that our People have spent eons studying the subject. It’s prevalent in everything they write - poetry, stories, ballads, warnings, fairy tales-”

“Are you not the subject of, quote, ‘fairy tales’,” Lil interrupted with a teasing smirk.

“For hobbits, yes,” Legolas answered with a laugh.

At Lil’s confused look, Haerelion attempted to elucidate. “Halflings.” He placed his hand, palm downward, to just above his head while sitting. “Little People.”

Alarmingly, once the words had left his mouth, Lil vaulted forward to press her finger forcefully against Haerelion’s lips, her face pulled down in fear as she frantically looked around, as though someone may be listening. Haerelion and Legolas froze in response, straining their own ears to hear something. But nothing seemed amiss.

After several seconds of complete silence, Lil relaxed, dropping her hand and her shoulders slumped forward in obvious relief. Placing a finger over her own lips, she leaned closer to Haerelion and Legolas until her mouth was inches from their ears. In a whisper she warned, “We must not offend the Fae, especially in their own lands.” Haerelion and Legolas exchanged a bewildered look, but nodded judiciously, each meeting her earnest stare until she was satisfied and moved back.

Regaining her calm demeanour, she still spoke rather softly as she explained, “I ken you didn’t mean to invoke the name of the Fae - just bad coincidence, is all - but it’s dangerous to speak certain names, nonetheless. We need to keep our hosts in a hospitable mood while we linger in their realm.”

Seeing their still-befuddled expressions, she huffed out a sigh of frustration and her frown deepened. “There is much I wish I could tell you, but unfortunately we haven’t the time. However, in the few moments given to us, I implore you to choose your words wisely,” she cautioned circumspectly.

A heavy silence was left ringing in their ears until even the sole sound of the water lapping at Haerelion’s feet was drowned out by the muted echo in the air.

“Well,” Haerelion cleared his throat, trying to calm his flustered nerves. Now that it had been brought to his attention, he suddenly felt an increased awareness of the weight of his own words. A person’s word was their very honour, trustworthiness, and integrity, but suddenly that notion had taken on a new meaning in his mind. The consequences of the words you spoke seemed much more substantial than before. Like the repercussions would be more immediate - and physical, if necessary. He cleared his throat again and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Right. Em. So, Elves have a lot to say on the subject of love.”

In a gesture of encouragement, Lil leaned forward to place her hand on his shoulder, a slightly apologetic smile tilting her lips as she nodded for him to continue.

Somewhat emboldened, Haerelion pressed on. “Well, it was of no surprise then that when I was in my late twenties, I questioned my tutor about the difference between familial love and that of a love for a spouse.”

He remembered it quite clearly. Looking back, all the signs were there even before he kissed Legolas that first time.

…. …. ~ . ~ …. ….

“Calaerthel,” Haerelion had put down his studies and was regarding his tutor curiously. He was reading the epic tale of Beren and Lúthien, which Calaerthel had been discussing with him at great length. “How is their love,” he gestured somewhat irreverently to the text, “different from say how I love my adar or Eldarion or Legolas? What’s so special about it? What makes it so different? I mean, besides the obvious, of course. How do you know the difference really?” he drawled, not sure if he was honestly asking in earnest or just in attempt to waste some time. He was more than ready for his time in the stuffy library be done for the day so he could go outdoors and do something more productive.

Calaerthel had smiled at him indulgently with a small hint of condescension as though amused by his puerile question. She had then gone on to explain all the amazing things that Love was, and how ultimately, knowing the person you were to spend your life with was something you would just know and feel when it happened.

In other words, she didn’t have an answer, as far as Haerelion was concerned. And so, pressing the issue, he’d repeated back to her, “Patient, nice, protecting, trusting,” he ticked the attributes off on his fingers listlessly, utterly uninspired. ‘Is that all you’ve got for me’ was on the tip of his tongue, but he knew better than to disrespect his elders. Instead he settled for commenting, “That easily describes Legolas. What’s this feeling you’re supposed to have to know the difference?” He was beginning to think his tutor was not as knowledgeable as his adar thought. For truly, all of those things reminded him of Legolas; and he supposed his ada too, though in a slightly different way. But Legolas was his best friend.

“Passion.”

Her abrupt and vehement response took him by surprise and must have shown in his demeanour for she continued.

“There is passion and lust. And your ability to feel joy greatly increases, as does your ability to experience despair based on your devotion to that person and the capacity to feel what they feel. It is exhilarating, despairing, and utterly overwhelming. You are no longer alone in this world as one, but complete as two; and then by marriage you are made one flesh again.”

There was a pause as Haerelion let her words wash over him in an attempt to understand what he was just told.

“Does that answer your question, young one?” Calaerthel looked rather smug in her confidence that he would have no rebuttal. And, of course, she was right.

He left that morning’s tutorial a little earlier than usual, as Calaerthel had taken pity on him and let him mull over her answer in his own time. That worked for him, as Haerelion figured he could just use the time to see what Legolas was doing and find out whether the older elf could better explain all that Calaerthel had said in a more sensical way.

…. …. ~ . ~ …. ….

“And did he?” Lil asked, laughing under her breath at Haerelion’s self-deprecating expression.

“Not really.”

“I am having trouble recalling when this took place,” Legolas mused, his eyes narrowed and cast downwards in thought. “What did I say?”

“That I was too young to be asking such questions and to come practice my sparring footwork with you.”

“An appropriate answer at the time,” Legolas nodded, looking pleased with himself.

“Hardly,” Haerelion disagreed on principle. “But it was that moment that started me thinking about what love was. And I suppose the rest is history…. over several decades and missteps, that is.”

“But we got there,” Legolas finished for him. “I’d say that what woke me up was that half-wit Rimben threatening to take you.” He scowled in disgust, no doubt picturing the scene in his mind.

Haerelion shook his head, raising his eyes to the heavens as he did so. “You’re ridiculous. I was there, remember? He hardly threatened anything; he was teasing you at best. And his cognition is perfectly fine. If anything, he made you look the fool,” Haerelion paused, casting a side-eye at Legolas before muttering under his breath, “Pe-channas!” (idiot/ dim-wit)

“Man?” Legolas gaped, wide-eyed, before quickly changing that to a mischievous growl. “Fó! Ci pîn presta-ceredir!” Charging, Legolas grabbed Haerelion by the shoulders and playfully pushed him forward, vaulting him head first into the water. (Roughly: What? How dare you! You little trouble-maker!)

Haerelion put his hands forward at the last second, but was too late to stop his fall. He fell into the shallows with a splash, soaking his entire front from the top of his hair to the tip of his toes. Spluttering and gasping, he twisted around with a half-choked laugh and immediately shot out a hand to seize the front of Legolas’ shirt and drag his husband down after him.

Lil, meanwhile, quickly stood up and took several steps back, though she was too late to prevent the front of her skirts from getting a bit wet. “Boys!” She shook her head in amusement as the two continued to gamely tussle in the shoals for several minutes, neither gaining the upper hand. Though it was clear that neither were trying very hard either.

‘Take it back!” Legolas cried, pushing Haerelion’s head down into the water again.

Haerelion responded by twisting away and rolling out from under his spouse with all the agility of a fish. “Legolas, this is very childish of you,” Haerelion admonished with false scorn as he stood up a few feet away, cheating slightly and using magic to keep Legolas stuck in the mud a moment longer. “Can’t you see we were having a nice chat?” he said, shaking his head disappointedly, as though Legolas were the wayward child, and stepping onto dry land.

Legolas responded, showing his greater age and level of maturity by sticking his tongue out while attempting to regain his footing to no avail.

Finally taking pity, but not without getting in a few more laughs, Haerelion reached his hand out to help him up, before abruptly thinking better of it and pulling back. Instead, he stepped back and used his magic to lift Legolas up in the air and set him down on the grass.

“Now then,” Haerelion stated with a cheeky grin and a wave of his hand, causing sparks to fly from his fingers. “If you’re nice, I might not make you stay in those wet clothes for too long.”

Before he could even finish that statement, however, both elves suddenly felt a hot burst of air and found themselves completely dry, in pre-roll-around-the-lake condition.

With a smirk, Lil twirled her wand between her fingers before slipping it into a hidden pocket within her skirts and sitting back down.

Fascinated, Haerelion quickly forgot about their childish romp and instantly began asking all the questions he’d been building up in his head all morning. “You called that a ‘wand’, right? What’s it made out of? Is it real, or more like a shadow of your original one? It is made of wood, isn’t it? What kind of wood is that? Did you make it? How does it focus your magic, and why do you move it in odd ways - it all seemed very precise and intentional? Does-”

Laughter rang out around him as both his naneth and Legolas threw back their heads with mirth.

“My, yeh certainly ask a lot o’ questions. At least I know exactly who you get that from,” she said with a modest smile, which Haerelion returned. “Well, let me see if I can get them all,” she paused to collect her thoughts. “My wand is 10 and a quarter inches, made of willow and a hair from a selchie.”

“Selchie?” Haerelion interrupted with some alarm. “You said those were seal-people. Seals don’t have hair.” He looked to Legolas for confirmation. “Do they?”

“Not quite.” Lil shook her head. “The selchies are particularly well known for shedding their skin to walk on land for a spell and… mingle with humans.” She waved her hands outwards in a graceful, wave-like motion, as though to say, and there you have it. “Seal blood has been in our family goin’ back at least a couple centuries. And every few generations, a child will come along who is particularly beholden to the Sea. I saw that in you the moment you were born and named you Hurlee - meaning ‘sea tide’,” she added for Legolas’ benefit.

At Haerelion’s somewhat disturbed look, she chided, “It’s no’ like yer goin’ to spontaneously sprout flippers and a tail after swimming for too long!” Haerelion quietly breathed a sigh of relief - you never knew with magic, after all! “In fact,” his naneth continued, “selchies are considered one of the Fae, believed to be cursed. It has been decreed that our sea-longing shall be land-longing and our land-longing, sea-longing; never truly at peace. But,” her eyes lit up knowingly, “I am rather inclined to believe that between the blessings of different magics and the Fae themselves, you are no longer bound to carry that burden.” Her hands came up again to cup both his cheeks and then moved down to settle on his shoulders, squeezing them. “My miracle boy.”

A moment passed between mother and son, during which Legolas respectfully averted his eyes and pretended to be interested in the muddy grass beneath his feet.

“Forgive me,” Lil said after a spell, releasing Haerelion’s shoulders and stroking her hands down his arms as though to smooth out non-existent wrinkles. “You were asking about my wand. Let me recall.

“Ah yes, it is real. Though I only seem to have access to it here, in the Place of In-Between - I couldn’t even begin to tell you exactly why tha’ is. And no, I did no’ make my own wand. That takes quite a bit of skill and talent that I do no’ possess. But yes, certain spells do require specific wand movements to work.” She breathed in, but then paused a second time, freeing one hand from Haerelion to slowly pull her wand out again. “Would- would you like to try it?

Haerelion straightened his spine and immediately began to lean forward, opening and closing his mouth with not a sound coming forth, his hands twitching in his lap. “Cou- could I?” he stuttered.

At her encouraging nod, he tentatively reached out his hand, trembling when the thin stick was placed across his palm. Slowly did his fingers close around the polished wood, marvelling at the vibrant warmth he felt emanating from it. And what was more, he could feel an answering thrum pulsating from deep within his chest, as though his magic recognised it somehow. “Elë!” (Wow)

Lil opened her mouth, looking to instruct him on what he should try, but she needn’t have bothered. After a moment of admiring and feeling the wand, Haerelion, all on his own, lifted it to eye-level and made a great swishing motion downward.

A great gurgling sound rose from the still placid lake, before giving way to a great wave surging upwards until it was a solid wall nearly 10 feet high. Another twirl of the wand and a look of deep concentration preceded the water beginning to take form. Before their eyes patterns and structures began to take shape until what was clearly a woodland palace stood like a picture before them. Using only water as a medium, the deep greens and browns should have been impossible to replicate, but with magic involved Haerelion had managed to make it as lifelike as possible.

“Elë!” Legolas echoed. “Greenwood,” he murmured in shock, deeply impressed. (Wow!)

Lil too was staring at it in wonder and did not take her eyes away to ask, “Your home growing up?”

Haerelion nodded. “Yes.” He watched his naneth’s face, watching her drink in every detail. When her eyes finally stopped scanning each feature, he waved the wand again, closed his eyes in concentration, and then with another circular motion, the water broke apart and reformed.

“This is Legolas’ talan in Greenwood where I spent most of my time growing up, eventually all but living with him.”

Once more the minute details and brilliant colours were captivating. Legolas reached over and took Haerelion’s hand with a regretful, nostalgic sigh.

Another wave of the wand and soon the talan was replaced by a similar looking one, though this one slightly larger. “Our talan in Ithilien,” Haerelion said. “And this,” he took a moment to repeat the process, “is the ship we built to cross the Belegaer.” No words were spoken, but Haerelion continued to watch his naneth’s revealing expressions to know when to move on. “And this,” he focused his magic through the wand again, this time able to do so without closing his eyes. “is our talan in the Woods of Oromë in the Undying Lands.”

“Amazing,” Lil intoned quietly, “Thank you for sharing that.” She turned her head to finally look at him. “Magic is strong in you, indeed. It makes a mother very proud.”

Blushing, but pleased that he was able to show his naneth something of his life, Haerelion let go of his hold on the magic and pushed the water back towards the middle of the lake, letting it fall down with a gentle splash. He wished he could also show her not only the places, but also the people who influenced his life. Unfortunately, this being his first time using a wand, he rather doubted he could do any of them justice.

He looked down at the wand in wonder, its warmth still pressing reassuringly against his skin, like it was made to fit his hand. Somewhat reluctantly, he started to give it back to his naneth, but was stopped midway by her own hand pushing back. She curled her fingers around his own and bid, “You keep it. It is yer birth right, and I would have you keep a piece of me when yeh return home.”

Haerelion gulped and his nostrils flared for a moment, too choked up to be able to respond. But Lil seemed to understand all the same and smiled back at him, pressing the arm holding the wand down to his lap and patting the back of his hand warmly.

“Now,” she beamed, though her glistening eyes betrayed her, “What are your plans for when you return home?”

Taken aback, both by the abrupt change in subject and the question itself, Haerelion exchanged a blank glace with Legolas, who seemed just as stumped. Ever since coming to the Undying Lands Haerelion had been myopically focused on training his magic and finding information about his past and origins. Yet in a matter of hours he had discovered there was little more Mithrandir could teach him due to his own magic being so unique. And all he could possibly learn about his past, short of travelling to his parents’ world and that of the Fae – and who knew if he would ever be able to return from there – all had been revealed to him by meeting his naneth. His head was still reeling from that fact alone.

And now here he was, all his goals of the past century having been met in a day.

“I don’t know,” he finally said in all honesty, feeling an odd sense of bereavement at the realization that he no longer had an objective to fulfill or mission to complete. Other than going home to their talan between the seas and the Woods of Oromë… then what?

His naneth laid a hand over his and squeezed, bringing his eyes back to meet hers. “You will.” She nodded to Legolas. “Now it is time for the two of you to figure that out together.”

Her eyes darted upwards then to where the sun had long begun its descent and was only a foot above the tree line now, painting the landscape in deep red and orange tones. Their time together was coming to an end.

Lil’s hand came up to stroke Haerelion’s face once more with all the desperation of knowing she would never get the chance to do so again. “You will figure it out. As a wise man once said, ‘All nature is but art, unknown to thee; All chance, direction, which thou canst not see; All discord, harmony not understood; All partial evil, universal good. And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite, one truth is clear, 'Whatever is, is right.

“I know that you will love deeply,” she continued earnestly, reaching out a hand for Legolas to clasp, and looking at them both “I pray that you are blessed with the strength to endure all the challenges life will send your way, that you find joy and happiness in the most unlikely of places; and above all else, ye forever know gratitude, loyalty, and compassion. Only you can decide what will define the next chapter of yer lives together. But I have faith that ye will.”

Lil bowed her head then and gave a chuckle of self-derisive laughter. “Listen to me, getting all preachy!” Raising her head, both elves could see that her eyes were wet once more as she smiled somewhat abashedly at them both. “But I only have this one chance to impart some wisdom to ye both, and I hope ye can get something out of an old woman’s ramblings.”

Not bothering with words, Haerelion reached forward for another embrace, simply nodding his head into her shoulder. Glancing over, he sent a reassuring smile Legolas’s way and received one in return.

~ …....... ~.~ …....... ~

Before long the sky began to grow dark, and as one, their little trio headed back towards the house, giving it one last long look, and making their way towards the hawthorn tree where Gandalf and Uinen stood waiting for them. There they said their final goodbyes.

Haerelion felt his throat closing up, realising that this was it. “I will cherish this,” he intoned solemnly, clutching the wand over his heart before bringing his naneth into a bone-crushing hug that he hoped conveyed all the emotions he had not the time nor the words to express. Given the force with which it was returned, he imagined she felt much the same. Breaking apart, his naneth cupped his face, laid a kiss on his forehead, and said, “I love you very much.”

Haerelion couldn’t say what happened next. Moving as though in a dream, he only vaguely heard his Legolas saying ‘thank you’ to his naneth as he pulled Haerelion back into the faery ring. With a jolt, his heightened senses returned, and he could feel Legolas stiffen ever so slightly in surprise as well. Before either could dwell on it further, however, they moved as a group towards the hawthorn where a nail was sticking out at eye level, on which hung a very familiar looking horseshoe.

Haerelion let Legolas take control of his hand, placing it on the two objects and keeping it pressed down next to his own. His eyes never left those of his naneth’s. One moment she was there, her hand suspended in mid-air, waving farewell, and the next, Haerelion, Legolas, Gandalf, and Uinen were back on their ship in the middle of the Sea - bags and all!

Still in a daze, caught between grief of what he had just lost and an overwhelming happiness at all he had just gained, Haerelion listened with half an ear to Lady Uinen explain. “Almaren was open to you as a bridge to allow you to enter the neutral ground of the Sídhe in order to meet your mother. But it will be closed once again and the Void beyond Ekkai unpassable once more.” She then moved to embrace each of them, bestowing Haerelion with a kiss to his forehead, still warm from where his naneth had done the same.

Stepping back, she regarded all three and said, “I will temper the waves and set you on your course home. Novaer. Na lû e-govaned vîn.” (Fare three well. Until we meet again)

Then she was gone.

And just like that, it was over, and the three companions were heading home.

~ …....... ~.~ …....... ~

Haerelion was uncharacteristically quiet over the next few days, not that Legolas and Gandalf expected anything different. They allowed him his space and time to help get his head in order as they went about their expected duties on the ship.

It was not until several days later, when they had finally reached the Undying Lands, and were camping their first night ashore by the Halls of Nienna, that Haerelion spoke.

“Uin edhel,” he said despondently, feeling bereft the moment the words left his lips as he looked over at Legolas, who was sitting only a few paces away and currently feeding some dry twigs into the fire. None of them had been particularly hungry for days, eating only the thin Lembas bread they had packed, but had built the fire nonetheless for some comforting warmth. (I am not an elf)

Frozen for a moment, surprised at finally hearing Haerelion’s voice again after so long, Legolas looked up in shock before moving to sit down on Haerelion’s left. Looking into his spouse’s sombre face, Legolas scrunched his nose up in confusion and made a point of exaggeratedly looking at Haerelion’s ears, the pointed, sculpted shape of his face, traced a finger down his arm where one could see his skin glowing in the dimness of evening, and then back up to his eyes that were brighter than even Legolas’ blue. “You’re not?” he asked, heavy with sarcasm.

Haerelion huffed. “I wasn’t born one,” he clarified

“And what does that matter?” Legolas paused, but before Haerelion could reply, he provided the answer. “It doesn’t.” And with a single finger, he pressed Haerelion’s lips shut.

Haerelion frowned, but when Legolas didn’t let up, it eventually turned into a pout and then the twitching beginnings of a smile. “Fine,” he conceded with a forceful sigh. “You win.”

“Good.” And really, that was the end of that.

Another beat passed before Legolas removed his finger. He continued to look at Haerelion, knowing that more than just that particular doubt had kept him silent for so long.

“I miss her.”

Conscious this was not an issue he could denounce as easily as the other and be done with it, Legolas leaned forward until their foreheads pressed together and their eyes met. “I know,” he said. Wrapping his arms around his love, Legolas pulled him tighter into his side, welcoming Haerelion’s own arms encircling his torso and squeezing him for all he was worth, while Haerelion buried his face into Legolas' chest.

The rest of the night passed in silence with neither elf letting go, taking comfort in the solid presence of the other. By the time the sun had risen in the sky the next day, clear and beautiful, Haerelion felt better. And it was a start.

~ …....... ~.~ …....... ~

After a day or so, the group finally parted ways. Mithrandir had some well-deserved resting to engage in, as he told the two elves somewhat wearily. Though as they continued down their own path, Haerelion swore he heard some light-hearted singing coming from the wizened old Maia.

“Roads go ever ever on, over rock and under tree,” floated back to the two elves until the wind picked up, drowning out all other sound, and by the time it abated, no trace of the Istar remained.

~ …....... ~.~ …....... ~

Legolas and Haerelion rode on through the Pastures of Yavanna and down to the Woods of Oromë where at long last, their talan stood proudly on the edge of the forest. Only a day’s ride south from the Bay of Eldamar with a view from the top that looked out onto the mountains of Pelóri. And it was only a few hours hike to the cliff’s edge where one could see the Shadowy Seas crashing far below.

It looked as one would expect after being neglected for over a year, with nature having taking control from the lack of maintenance. Some wooden panels that had split and had branches going through them would need to be replaced, the ivy would need to be cut back and then used to strengthen the climbing rope, and thatch and weaved saplings that made up the roof would need to be rewoven in some places. Nothing a little magic and a day’s hard work couldn’t fix. But more importantly, it was home and it was theirs.

Reaching the front door after Legolas, Haerelion turned around and looked out over the mountains, where, if he strained his ears long enough and there was complete silence, he could hear the roar of the ocean in the distance. Or perhaps it was just his own wishful thinking.

After a time, Legolas came back out from where he had been inspecting the inside and drew Haerelion in. Setting himself on his favourite chair, he pulled Haerelion into his lap and laid his chin atop his shoulder.

Haerelion drew in a deep breath and sank into Legolas’ hold, contentedly. “Well,” he declared, “we’re back.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Legolas replied, laughing quietly. And then, for Haerelion’s ears alone, he softly added, “Nîn Telereg.” (My little sea-elf)

…....... . ….......  
The End  
~...~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Side note: The quote Lil said is from Alexander Pope - not to take any undue credit there.  
> And the ending is a bit of a nod to The Hobbit and Return of the King, if anyone has their books handy! Again, giving credit where it is due.  )
> 
> Once again, thank you all for reading!


End file.
